


Salvation

by Angel_DemonQueen_Hunter



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-04
Updated: 2015-12-05
Packaged: 2018-05-04 23:38:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 23
Words: 30,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5352698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angel_DemonQueen_Hunter/pseuds/Angel_DemonQueen_Hunter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam & Dean Winchester try to help a famous musician when they discover he's been having violent dreams about the end times.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“I figured I better start keeping a video account of what’s happening, because, trust me, this is some weird shit.  
“For those of you who don’t know me, my name is Brody Sheppard and I’m the lead guitarist and co-founder of the band Wicked Cherry. Ever since I can remember, I’ve had these dreams…nightmares, really…they’re not always the same but they have the same theme: blood, horror, loss, the end of the world. And a man.  
“One man. He is always the constant in these dreams. He never talks but I can hear him speak. In my head. His voice is like a…a…droning, almost. It’s heavy and loud and all-encompassing. It’s all I hear. Besides the screaming. He likes the screams; they fill him with a sense of accomplishment and peace. He stands on a hill most of the time, arms outstretched, soaking in the sound of the horror below him.  “And every time I start off in that pit of despair, surrounded by the bloody and the dead, just one of the screams. But then suddenly I’m next to him and his eyes, his horrible eyes, are staring into mine and I hear that voice.  
“He’s glad I’m there, glad to share his plan with me. It’s so glorious, can’t I see that? Those people below us sacrificed themselves for the greatest good there could possibly be and I was the catalyst. I started all of this. His arms open as he envelops me with his being and as I’m being sucked into him I wake up.  
“So as if that’s not weird enough for you, I found someone else who has dreams just like this. Well, not exactly like mine but it’s the same scene, the same man, just from a different perspective. We’ve spent hours upon hours dissecting these nightmares together, trying to discover the meaning. All we could come up with was that maybe they’re glimpses into a past life. There’s not enough clues for us to figure out the time this event took place, like what century…we can’t even give enough of a description of the man that would help us identify him. If he even ever existed.  
“We’re positive that he did.  
“Until we got to Atlanta.   
“Now we’re positive that he does.  
“Do you know Wicked Cherry has never played Atlanta? We’ve been a band for sixteen years and never played here. We were supposed to a handful of times throughout the years but something always happened and we never got there. Weird things kept us from being here: the first time the theatre we were scheduled to play in flooded, our bus broke down in Nashville one time…band members have gotten sick, equipment stolen, just a whole slew of bizarre happenstances that made us cancel Atlanta.   
“But this time we made it and we’re doing three shows here to make up for all of those times. We’ll be here for a week. A whole week. At first I was excited but now, after one night and one show, I’m ready to go home and never set foot in this city ever again.   
“The second we flew in, I felt draped with the feeling that I usually feel in the dreams, right before that man absorbs me. I couldn’t shake it and neither could Heather. She felt it right away, too. Oh….Heather….sorry, I haven’t mentioned her by name yet. I’m just assuming anyone watching this knows who she is.  
“Heather Knight is the lead singer for Wicked Cherry, my ex-wife and best friend and co-dreamer. She’s the only one I’ve ever told about these dreams….well, until now. Ha.  
“Now, all of you, if anyone watches this, will know about my fucked up mind, my fucked up dreams, my fucked up everything. And that’s kind of scary but also kind of comforting. Maybe Heather and I aren’t the only ones who have had dreams like this, or seen this man. Maybe, somehow, this video will help not just me, not just Heather, but some other soul who’s struggling with this.  
“Not that I would wish any of this on someone, but if there are others out there, please feel free to reach out to me so we can work this out. Together.  
“So….like I said, the second we got into Atlanta we were assaulted by this feeling we had ever only felt in the nightmares. Heather and I stayed in while the rest of the band and crew went out to sample the nightlife. I was exhausted and fell asleep right away. The nightmare started immediately and was different than anything I’d ever experienced.   
“This time, instead of being in a pool of death, I was on the mountain with the man. His voice was louder and buzzier than ever and his eyes…they were dark, darker than any color I could describe, but there was a brilliant light behind them. Like the darkness was obscuring the light. I kept thinking if we could let the light out, he wouldn’t be so evil. As soon as I thought that, the man’s hand reached out and gripped my throat. Gripped it so tight I couldn’t breathe. I could feel my windpipe being crushed, could feel my eyes starting to bug out…  
“I woke up gasping for breath and the voice still buzzing in my head. I could feel the hands on my throat and hear my heart pounding. It took me a while to realize someone was actually pounding on my hotel room door. I was terrified to open the door until I heard Heather’s voice calling out my name. I let her in and she was sobbing, saying she’d watched me die in a dream. I got her calmed down enough to tell me her nightmare and it gave me chills. It matched mine exactly, just from her viewpoint. It was…horrible.   
“The scariest part, though, was when Heather suddenly gasped and pointed at my neck. She directed me to the closest mirror and that was when I saw the bruises; see? Where the fuck did these come from? Was I choking myself in my sleep? Or was there someone actually here with me? Or…and this is what feels right even though this simply cannot be…this was somehow not a dream and I really was that close to death.  
“Has this ever happened to anyone else? I need to know. I’m freaking out here, guys.”

 

**********

 

“Wow, does this guy ever shut up?”  
“Dean…” Sam Winchester shot his older brother an exasperated look. He actually had to look up to do it since he was sitting at the scarred, rickety hotel table in their room. This didn’t happen very often since Sam was 6’4”, three inches taller than the guy standing to his left, rolling his eyes.  
“What? You have to admit, he talks a lot.”   
“Dude…it’s a video blog. That’s what they do.” Dean shrugged. “There’s three or four other videos and they just get weirder. It sounds like demons, Dean.”  
“It’s too early for demons.”  
“But not too early for a beer,” Sam shot back, nodding at the bottle in Dean’s hand.   
“It’s 7:45,” Dean pointed out, taking a healthy swig. “I’ve been awake for an hour since you woke me up and made me watch that.” He pointed at the laptop with the bottle. “I deserve this.”  
“This guy deserves our help. He’s practically begging for it.” Dean sighed, finished the beer then sat down next to his brother.  
“So you wanna go to…” Dean wiggled his fingers in the air in question.  
“Atlanta,” Sam supplied.  
“….Atlanta, to go see if this is even real?”  
“Why wouldn’t it be real, Dean?” Sam was getting annoyed now. He had been up most the night watching these videos after seeing a blurb about how they were trending around the country. “Why would this guy make this up? You watched this, you saw the bruises on his neck…you could see how scared he was.”  
“He could be trying to drum up publicity for his band, their tour.”  
“I don’t think…” Sam sighed and nodded slightly, “Okay, I’ll give you that. It could be that. But what if it isn’t? What if this guy really, truly needs our help?” He could see his brother bending; his eyes were softening and he bit his bottom lip and he thought about Sam’s question. “There’s more videos. You should watch the others, see what you think.”  
“Fine,” Dean said, drawing the word out in annoyance as he crossed behind his brother and sat in the empty chair. “It would be better if there were naked chicks, though.” Sam didn’t respond; instead he started up video number two.   
It began much the same as the first one: Brody sitting in his hotel room bed with the sheet over his head, talking into his phone’s camera. The guitarist looked to be in his mid-30’s with longish, shaggy caramel blonde hair and big, haunted brown eyes. His nose was largish, pierced on the right side with a double silver ring that matched the two in his heavy, dark brows. He had a generous mouth, perfect teeth, and sported a perfectly trimmed beard that was a couple shades darker than his hair. Dean figured when he smiled, the groupies lost their minds. He was wearing a black v-neck t-shirt and even though he wore a large grey scarf around his neck, the bruises still showed.   
Brody told the audience he hoped was out there about the show he had played that night and how The Man had actually been there. The scene he described caught Dean’s attention and soon he was just as drawn in to the story as his brother had been. The dreams and sightings were coming more and more regularly with each passing day and Dean could see the toll it was taking on Brody. There was absolutely no way he could be faking this. “All right,” he said as the final video came to an end, “I’m convinced, Let’s go to Atlanta.”


	2. Chapter 2

The Georgia Dome loomed in front of them and Sam breathed in relief. After riding in their ’67 Impala that smelled like stale fast food and body odor for seven and a half hours, he was ready for some fresh air and room to stretch his body. He was also looking forward to hearing something that wasn’t Dean singing along with AC/DC. While getting ready to leave for Atlanta, Sam had checked out Wicked Cherry. He liked their sound even though it was heavier than what he normally listened to. He had suggested they listen to them on the trip but was nixed by the whole “driver/shotgun/cakehole” rule.  
Dean parked the Impala at the far end of the parking lot. The boys smoothed their white dress shirts, put on their FBI ties and threw on their suit jackets. As Sam checked the placement of his badge, he had a thought. “Dean, you realize we’re walking into a place filled with professional musicians and roadies and people who will know we’re not Agents Simmons and Frehley.”   
“Crap.”   
“Don’t worry, I’ll come up with something.” Dean gave his brother a disgusted look.  
“I am not going in there as Agents Smith and Jones. I’ve got this.”

 

*******

 

“Mr. Sheppard? Agents Singer and Bradbury from the FBI are here to talk to you?” Brody Sheppard thought that his lack of sleep had caused him to hear the security guard wrong. He surely didn’t say FBI. He slowly looked up from where he sat on the edge of the stage, tuning his guitar, to see the burly guard standing below him, flanked by two men in their 30’s wearing suits and ties, holding badges, and looking stone-cold serious.   
“Uh, okay, thanks.” He nodded and the guard walked off. Brody caught the attention of his tech and handed the guitar off before jumping down to meet the agents who were pocketing their ID’s. Brody realized he was self-conscious about his grungy appearance up against the professional look he was facing. He had always said that his guitar made him more attractive to women but he also knew he was no slouch in the department. However, up against these two agents who looked like they stepped off of the cover of a cheesy romance novel, his self-esteem was taking a major hit.  
The tall one was…well, tall, really tall with longish, brown hair and hazel puppy dog eyes. He had on a black suit, pale lavender shirt, and a striped red, white, and blue tie. His partner’s suit was a dark grey, his shirt white, and his tie steel grey. He dressed and looked sterner than the tall one. His hair was short, the same brown as his partner but his eyes were a deep green and his brows were drawn together like he was looking for any reason to slap some cuffs on Brody’s wrists and drag him away. The guitarist didn’t have to look in a mirror to know he looked like a homeless drug addict; his eyes were bloodshot from lack of sleep, his shaggy caramel blonde hair was going several different directions and his wrinkled Wicked Cherry t-shirt and khaki shorts were stained from the coffee he kept spilling due to his jitters.   
“So, gentlemen, how can I help you?” Brody asked, hating that he could hear the hitch of fear in his voice.   
“We’re here to ask you about the videos you’ve been posting this past week,” the shorter, sterner one said, his voice deep and gruff, his green eyes hard.  
“Wh-what about them?” A sense of fear ripped through Brody; what if these guys weren’t really FBI but agents sent by The Man to finally take him out. In fact, what if he had fallen asleep and this was a dream? If this were a dream, anything could happen. Not being able to help himself, Brody backed up so his body was pressed against the stage. He could feel his breath becoming ragged.  
“Hey, hey, calm down, it’s okay.” The tall one with the perfect hair stepped forward, gave his partner a dirty look. He raised his hands in the air in a gesture of surrender. “Look, man, we’re not really FBI. I’m Sam, this is my brother Dean, And we think we might be able to help you.” For the first time in almost a week, Brody felt a spark of hope flare inside of him. The relief almost brought him to his knees. He reached out and grabbed the not-agent’s wrist and felt his eyes fill up with tears.  
“You…you can help me? Oh, man, that would be…oh my God, I would owe you my life if you could.” His voice came out high and shrill and louder than he could control.  
“Is there somewhere we could talk in private?” Dean was looking around, bringing to Brody’s attention that his outburst had caused some attention from the crew.   
“Yeah, yeah,” he nodded, letting go of the Sam’s wrist, practically running to the nearest exit, beckoning the boys to follow. “We can go sit in the tour bus. I need to call Heather first. She needs to be there.”  
“Heather is your…ex-wife,” Dean asked as they walked out into the brisk October air.  
“Yeah, yeah…she’s been having nightmares, too, but her’s, thank God, aren’t as intense as mine.” Brody pulled his cell phone from his shorts pocket and dialed her number. “Hey, meet me on the bus right now! Trust me! Drop whatever you’re doing!”


	3. Chapter 3

The tour bus was a huge silver and red monster that Wicked Cherry had just procured for this tour. Heather loved it and spent most of her time on it when she could. She was laying on her bunk in the back when Brody had called, answering Tweets and Facebook messages from fans. His videos had caused quite a stir with their public and they all wanted to know what was going on; was he okay or was he losing his mind. The consensus among the masses, however, was that these were a gimmick to either promote the tour or spark interest in a screenplay he was writing.   
Heather wished more than anything that the nightmares weren’t real. She hated seeing Brody so terrified and vulnerable, hated that she couldn’t do anything to help him. As strange as it seemed, she was thankful that she was experiencing the dreams with him; at least this way he had someone he could confide in, someone who didn’t think he was going crazy.   
The phone call that she just received filled her with trepidation. On one hand, she heard something in his voice that she hadn’t heard all week: excitement. On the other hand, she was afraid he had finally snapped. Praying that it was the former, she hopped out of her bunk and ran to the front to open the door. She saw Brody leading two men in suits towards the bus; he was gesturing wildly and smiling. Her heart leapt…she hadn’t seen that smile in a long while. He practically jumped up the three steps and grabbed her in a tight embrace. “Heather! Oh my God, these guys, they just showed up and they’re here to help! They’re going to help me…us!” He released her before she could even hug him back. He was so hyped that he infected not only Heather, but the two men who climbed into the bus behind him. They were both chuckling at Brody’s behavior. “Babe! This is Sam and Dean! They saw my videos and they think they can help!”  
Heather looked at the men, her smile still in place. “Is this true? Do you really think you can help Brody?”   
“We’re hoping so, yes.” She nodded at the tall man’s answer then gestured for them to have a seat on the side benches behind them. Heather and Brody sat across from them. Her ex-husband grabbed her hand and held it tight. She squeezed back then focused her attention on the newcomers. They both sat on the edge of the bench, legs spread. The taller one pulled a notebook and pen from his jacket pocket while the other leaned forward, elbows on knees, looking serious. They were both good-looking and Heather suddenly felt slightly self-conscious that she was wearing no make-up, yoga pants, and an old Def Leppard t-shirt. Her dark auburn hair was up in a messy bun and she patted at it absently while thinking of what to say.  
“So, which one is which,” she asked the men, waving a finger between the two of them.  
“I’m Sam,” the tall one answered, giving her a grin that showed off deep dimples in his cheeks. He jerked a thumb towards the still serious one on his right. “This is my brother Dean.” Dean gave a backwards nod with a raise of an eyebrow. Heather noticed he had a smattering of freckles across his nose and suddenly he didn’t look so menacing as he had a second ago.   
“I’m Heather, it’s nice to meet you.” She gave them both a small smile before getting down to business. “So, how can you help Brody?”  
“My brother and I are hunters. We hunt…monsters, uh, things that go bump in the night…” Sam stopped and looked at both of them with the slightest touch of concern. “Uh, you don’t seem surprised by this.”  
“Yeah,” Dean added. “Usually people are freaking out about now.”  
“After everything we’ve gone through,” Heather answered, shrugging, “I’m happy to hear there are people like you guys out there, to be honest.” With her words, and Brody’s aggressive nodding, both Sam and Dean’s faces and postures relaxed. Dean leaned back against the seat and Sam chuckled.  
“Well, hell, that makes our job a lot easier.” He flipped open his notebook and poised his pen above the paper. “So, tell me exactly when these dreams started.”  
“Shit, I’ve been having them for as long as I can remember,” Brody replied. “Heather, too.”  
“But they’ve never been as intense as they are now?”  
“No. I would have a nightmare once every few months, but, like I said in that first video, the second we got into Atlanta it was just…” Brody broke off, waving his hands in the air, trying to think of how to describe the feeling.  
“Suffocating,” Heather supplied and he pointed at her, nodding.  
“Exactly!” He ran his hands through his hair and shook his head. “It’s like this thing has it’s arms wrapped around me all the time! I can’t breathe and I can’t sleep and I can’t function!”  
“Heather, you’re experiencing the same thing as Brody,” Sam asked, looking up from his notes.  
“Not quite. The suffocation is there but it’s not on the scale that Brody’s is. I dream every night, the same dreams that he does but from my point of view, which is just as terrifying. Every night, I see him…” She stopped as her voice broke and the tears pooled in her eyes. Taking a deep breath and grabbing Brody’s hand again, she continued. “I see him die,” she whispered.   
“Babe…” Brody slipped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close while she got her tears under control. She hated crying, especially in front of strangers.   
“Let me change directions here for a second,” Dean said, sitting up straight again. “You guys used to be married but not anymore?”   
“Right,” Brody answered. “We met in an online chatroom dedicated to dream interpretation. That was when we realized the nightmares we had been having all of all lives were similar. Some of them were downright exact to the smallest detail. We were just kids…what, 17, 18?”  
“I was 18, you were 17,” Heather responded, glad for the distraction.   
“Yeah, yeah…so we met and just decided that we must be soul mates. We got married, like, three months later. Our parents were just freaking out,” Brody laughed.  
“Turns out we work better as friends. We got divorced almost a year later but we were still close. A few years after that we started our band and,” Heather tilted her head and jerked her shoulder upright in a “the-rest-is-history” movement. Her head was clearer now and she was ready to answer more questions.  
“So tell us a little more about what’s happened since you got here,” Sam requested gently. “You mentioned in one of the videos that you think you actually saw the guy from your dreams at your first show?” Brody jumped to answer.  
“Dude! Yeah, yeah, it was insane, like…I’m up there on stage wailing, it’s like the solo of my life, right?” The guitarist leaned forward and was curling his fingers like he was reenacting the solo right there on the bus. “Shredding like there’s no tomorrow and suddenly in the audience, right in front of me, just staring at me, is him. It completely threw me off balance and I fucked it all up. But the crowd is so crazy into the show that they mostly didn’t notice. I fumbled through it, the whole time looking at this dude. And he’s just looking at me. But like, I couldn’t even tell you what he looked like or what he was wearing…he was just this…entity…   
“And then, his eyes…oh my God, his eyes…they started bleeding! Like crying tears of blood and he just stood there and let it happen. And not one single person saw him! No one! Just me! And that voice, that horrible droning, buzzing voice…it just rang in my head. And then he smiled at me. I felt that smile shoot into me; it felt cold and evil and wrong…” Brody shuddered with the memory.  
“Is it possible that someone who saw your videos, thought you were making all of this up, do you think they could have been messing with you? Dressing up to try and make you think you saw something?” Sam’s idea caused Brody narrow his eyes before he shook his head vehemently. “Not anyone who knows you well enough to feel they could play a practical joke on you? A bandmate, crew member?”  
“No, no way, man. There’s no way anyone could have made me feel and hear what I did. Plus the rest of the band and our manager…they all think I’m crazy.” Brody’s face fell for a moment and Heather let out a small, sympathetic coo.  
“Brody…”  
“It’s true, Heather. You know they do. And they think you’re just humoring me.” He barked out a humorless laugh. “But they do have to admit, it’s boosting our ticket sales. All of our upcoming shows have sold out!” His laugh disintegrated quickly and he looked down at his fingers entwined with Heather’s. “Besides, the eyes, seriously…there’s just no way. No freaking way someone could have made that happen.”  
“This guy,” Dean asked, “did he have black eyes?”  
“Yeah,” Brody nodded, “but there was this glow to them, too, like something behind the darkness wanting to get out.” Heather noticed Sam and Dean exchange glances.  
“What?” She demanded, her eyes flicking between the two. “You know something? You know who this man is?” The brothers looked at her, then back at each other, some kind of silent rock-paper-scissors game being played. Finally Sam sighed and faced her.  
“Possibly, we think we know what he is. It’s possible that he’s a demon.”


	4. Chapter 4

“Come on, you bastard, pick up.” The phone continued to ring in Dean’s ear as he paced outside the giant tour bus. “Why is it whenever I need your help, you’re not available?” When voicemail kicked in, Dean angrily hit the end button.  
“You know, I am a king.” The bored voice came from behind him. Dean turned slowly, a grimace crossing his face. “I’m a very busy man.”  
“If you were hoping to scare me, you should popped up in front of me so I could see your face.” The King of Hell chuckled, shoving his hands into his black overcoat. Crowley was shorter than Dean by a good four inches but he made up for it in sheer attitude. His suit was entirely black except for a steel grey tie embellished with raised flourishes of the same color. He wore his black hair closely-cropped so the receding hairline wasn’t quite as noticeable and the bottom half of his face was covered by a thick beard and mustache.   
“I’ve missed your humor, truly,” he drawled in his British accent. “I got your message. What is it that you need?”  
“Just some info,” Dean answered. “You really didn’t need to make a special trip aboveground.”   
“When it comes to The Hardy Boys, I’ve found it’s more entertaining to witness the fun rather than just hear about it.”   
“Sorry to burst your bubble, but I just need to ask about an employee of yours.”   
“Looking for a referral?” The hunter threw him a humorless smirk.  
“You got a guy that’s local to this area that infiltrates dreams?” Crowley tilted his head and rolled his eyes skyward as he thought before bringing the dark eyes back to Dean’s.   
“When you say local…”   
“The Atlanta area. Physically stuck here but able to creep into people’s dreams no matter where they are.”  
“Unless he’s under a permanent devil’s trap, I don’t see why he would be stuck here.” Dean sighed. He wasn’t getting the information from the King of Hell like he thought he would.  
“Let’s forget about the stuck part and focus on the dream thing, here, pal.” Crowley shot him a look meant to remind him that kings don’t take orders from peons. It rolled right off of Dean as he stared him down.   
“Fine…it could be an incubus, I suppose…”  
“No, it’s not just a chick whose having her dreams screwed with, it’s a dude, too.” Now it was Crowley’s turn to sigh.  
“Maybe if I could get all the information up front, I could be of more help to you and Moose.” Dean’s mouth hardened and his jaw muscle flinched. He was hoping to not introduce the victims to the one and only king of the underworld.  
“Fine, follow me, but behave yourself!”  
“I’ll be a perfect gentleman,” he smiled, walking behind Dean towards the tour bus. “Aren’t I always?” He didn’t have to see the hunter’s face to know he caused his green eyes roll sarcastically. That made his smile widen just a bit as he climbed the steps. Anytime he could ruffle the feathers of the infamous hard-ass Dean Winchester…  
Sam Winchester’s voice assaulted his ears as he entered the bus. “Dean, did you find anything out from…oh, he’s here.” Crowley bowed deeply, sweeping his arm behind him.  
“At your service, Moose.” His lips pursed in a saucy pucker that had Sam frowning deeply. Crowley opened his mouth to make another barbed comment but shut it quickly when he saw the couple standing behind him. They were staring at him with open curiosity and he wondered what they had been told about him. “The name’s Crowley,” he said by way of introduction, pushing past the tall nuisance and extending his hand to the man, who grabbed it, shaking it enthusiastically.  
“I’m Brody, this is Heather. So you’re the expert on demons?” He sounded so eager and innocent that Crowley’s fingers were itching to write up a contract for his soul.   
“You could say that,” he smiled politely before moving up to the woman. She was obviously not at her best in that moment but Crowley liked the intelligent green eyes that met his and the fire red hair piled on top of her head. “Heather? It’s a pleasure.” He took her hand in his and brought the knuckles up to his lips, brushing them softly. Her blush was bright and deepened as he continued to peer into her eyes. He had yet to release her hand nor had she hadn’t made a move to pull away from him.   
“Crowley,” she purred. “Nice to meet you.” She licked her bottom lip quickly, raising her eyebrows and smiling widely at him.  
“Don’t flirt with him,” Dean bellowed from the front of the bus, shattering the spell. He shoved his way past his brother and Brody to grab Crowley by the shoulder and yank him away. “Don’t flirt with her,” he growled.  
“Ummm…” Heather looked like she was about to give Dean a piece of her mind when Sam placed a hand on her arm.  
“Trust us, Heather,” he told her, eyes on the man in black, “he’s not a nice guy.”  
“Oh, God, don’t tell her that,” Brody laughed. “She loves bad boys.” Heather shot her ex a look as Crowley shook himself away from Dean, taking one step towards her, his hands back in his coat pocket but his eyes were all over her.  
“Well, darling, in that case, I’m the baddest of the bad.”  
“Jesus Christ,” Dean spat, unwilling to let this flirtation reach it’s climax where she traded her soul for a kiss. “The man is the fucking King of Hell. When I say don’t flirt with him, it’s not cuz I’m jealous. I’m trying to save your goddamn soul!” 

 

*******

 

The whole bus went silent until Crowley sighed. “Mood killer,” he mumbled, stepping back and sitting down on the bench, hands still in his pockets so his coat wrapped around him. He looked like he’d just been scolded by the school principal. Heather stood stock still, her gaze moving between Crowley and Dean. Even with everything she had been though lately with Brody, things were really starting to get weird.  
“So…you have the King of Hell on your speed dial,” she asked, finally sitting down across from their newest guest. Crowley gave her a saucy wink and she laughed before turning her attention to Sam, who was sitting down next to her.  
“He’s got access to information we normally wouldn’t,” Sam explained. “He is a…necessary evil.”  
“But does he know who our demon is,” Brody asked, sinking down to a cross-legged position on the floor.. Not wanting to be the only one standing, Dean sat next to Crowley, yet keeping a wide space between them.   
“Yeah, Crowley, you got anything for us,” the older Winchester asked sarcastically.   
“I had suggested an incubus but Dean here assured me that can’t be the case.” Crowley looked down at Brody. “You’re both being affected by these dreams, then?”  
“Yeah, yeah, man…me mostly but Heather sees the same thing but from her viewpoint.”   
“Interesting.” The king sat back and looked as if he were flipping through a mental rolodex of demons. “Can you describe him at all?”  
“Not really,” the guitarist shook his head. “He’s almost like a being made out of the absence of light…he’s there but I can’t see him. I can feel him with every molecule of my being but…”  
“His eyes are the only thing I ever remember,” Heather said quietly. Crowley looked up at her; this time there was no flirtation. She was scared again but he was astonishingly patient with her. Between Heather and Brody, they went through another description of the nightmare eyes. When they were finished, Crowley leaned back, steepled his fingers together, his index fingers resting on his chin, and closed his eyes. After what seemed like an eternity, he sat forward and looked at the couple.  
“This doesn’t sound like one of mine.” His words caused everyone to deflate.   
“How can you be sure,” Dean asked.  
“Because, I know, okay?” His annoyance was visible on his face and in his voice. “The anomaly of being physically active in this area only could have been explained away by some sort of devil’s trap but the eyes…it’s the eyes that clued me in.” Now he looked at Dean and then Sam. “Of all people, you two have seen enough demon eyes to be able to answer this…what do they look like?”  
“Black.” Both Sam and Dean answered at the same time. Crowley nodded like he was their history teacher.   
“Unless you’re the king.” He let his eyes flick to blood red for a split second. Brody gasped and scooted backwards a few inches, away from him. Heather merely stared, her eyes wide. “There’s no light behind demon eyes. None whatsoever. Even Azazel, with his glowy lemon eyes. Behind them was all darkness, believe me.”  
“So, what are you saying,” Sam asked in exasperation. “If it’s not a demon and it’s not an incubus or succubus, what the hell is it?”  
“It’s a fallen angel.”   
The voice came from out of nowhere, preceded by a quiet rustling sound and followed by the sudden appearance of a man standing at the head of the bus. Brody screamed and scrambled backwards again, this time not stopping until he hit the bathroom door.   
Heather’s heart jolted and she felt her body jump. “What the hell,” she whispered, grabbing Sam’s arm. She tried to hide behind him but keep her eye on the creature standing in front of them.   
The newcomer was tall, although not as tall as Dean, with short, dark hair, brilliant blue eyes capped with dark brows, and full lips. He was wearing dark slacks, a white dress shirt, thin blue tie, black dress shoes, and a tan trench coat. He could have passed for an insurance salesman, Heather thought, except for that one thing…  
The stranger looked down at Brody and walked purposefully over to where the guitarist was laying prone on the floor. “I apologize, I did not mean to frighten you.” He held out a hand to help him off of the floor that Brody took tentatively.   
“Who…who are you,” Brody stammered, getting to his feet.   
“Castiel,” he answered simply. “I’m an…”  
“Angel,” Heather breathed. Suddenly every eye was on her. Castiel turned away from Brody and approached her, smiling bemusedly down at her.  
“Yes, that’s right.” His head tilted slightly to the right. “How did you know?” She pointed behind him with a trembling finger.  
“Your wings.”   
If Heather saying she knew he was an angel had quieted the bus, her saying she could see his wings sucked all the air right out of it. Brody simply gaped at her, Dean and Sam exchanged stunned glances, and Crowley studied her with more interest than before. Castiel, however, reacted with a beatific calm. He smiled down at her, then held out a hand. She hesitated before reaching out for him, sliding her fingers across his palm. She felt something akin to a mild electric shock. The angel pulled her out of her seat so they were standing incredibly close. She could feel the power radiating off of him.   
“Dude, what have I told you about personal space,” Dean mumbled. Castiel flicked his eyes to Dean then back to Heather.  
“Am I making you uncomfortable?” She couldn’t speak, could barely even think; all she could do was shake her head. She couldn’t stop staring at his wings. How was it that no one else was staring at his wings? They were enormous, stretching to the roof of the bus and folding around the angel, the tips brushing the floor. The voluminous feathers were black but changed to a deep violet when the lights hit them just right, and seemed to quiver with the same power that she felt from touching his hand.  
“Would you like to touch them?” There was the smallest trace of amusement in his voice as he asked.   
“Jesus, Cas, you can’t just ask someone if they want to touch your wings.” Dean’s voice came out in an embarrassed growl, causing Crowley to chuckle. Sam just face-palmed, his shoulders shaking with mirth. Castiel actually blushed, his brows furrowing.  
“I’m sorry, am I being too forward,” he asked, those bottomless blue eyes peering into hers. Heather could only blink at him. She was still very aware that he had her hand in his, the little charges pinging off of her skin. “I’m still not very…up…on human etiquette.” The angel’s voice was deep, gruff, yet surprisingly soothing.   
“You…you’re fine,” Heather stammered, sliding her eyes back to the feathers that were vibrating slightly. She lifted her hand slowly towards them, then stopped and swung her gaze back to the angel. “Are you sure it’s okay for me to touch them,” she whispered. Castiel’s face softened as he nodded. Taking a deep breath, Heather reached out.  
The second her fingers touched the feathers, she felt like the entire world disappeared. It was just her and the angel…and those quivering, black feathers. They felt like nothing she had ever experienced. If pressed to describe the feeling, she wasn’t sure she accurately could. They were extremely soft yet gave off little sparks of electricity. When she pulled her eyes away to look at the angel as a whole, it was like looking at a mini Fourth of July fireworks show. White sparks shot out from the wings, forming a blanket of light. It was the most beautiful thing Heather had ever seen. If she could, she would stay like this forever.  
“Heather?” She heard her name being called but she purposely ignored it, continuing to stroke the feathers. “Heather? Heather!” To her consternation, the world around her started to bleed into view. She could see everyone staring at her, including someone who hadn’t been there before: the band’s manager, Haley, was standing in the bus’s doorway, looking at her sternly, hands on hips. Heather blinked furiously, trying to bring the world back into focus.   
“Haley, what’s up,” she asked, having to clear her throat halfway through. She felt like she had just woke up from a long sleep.  
“What’s up? What’s up?” Haley Cunningham was five feet tall and curvy with a sweet face and fire engine red hair that puffed around her face like a cloud. She looked like everyone’s little sister. But at that moment, her features were pulled into a scowl that was directed right at Heather. “What’s up is that your opening band just took the stage and you’re hanging out on the bus, no make-up, hair a mess, still in street clothes doing…what are you doing? Cleansing this guy’s aura?” Castiel smiled and opened his mouth to, Heather presumed, tell her exactly what she had been doing, Before he could speak, she dropped her hand to her side and ran towards Haley.  
“I’m so sorry! I completely lost track of time, I’m coming, Brody is right behind me.” She glanced back to see her ex-husband running past Castiel. The feathers should have hit him square in the face but there was no indication that he even felt it. ”Oh! And can you get these guys backstage passes, please,” Heather requested. Haley nodded grumpily.   
“As long as you get your ass moving.”  
“Okay, okay.” She started to walk down the steps, paused, then popped her head over the front seat. “You guys, follow Brody. Stick with him. Haley will get you your passes.” With one last look at the angel’s wings, Heather ran.


	5. Chapter 5

The Winchesters, the King of Hell, and an angel all stood backstage, just to the left of a huge rack filled with guitars and watched Wicked Cherry tear down the house. The plan was to keep an eye on Brody; he would let them know when and if the guitarist saw the man again. They were pinning all of their hopes on Castiel being able to see the entity that no one else but Brody could. Except Cas wasn’t paying attention to his mission. Dean followed his eyes and noticed with amusement that his gaze followed Heather everywhere she went. It wasn’t one-sided, either; the singer constantly glanced over at him, her eyes positioned every time just above his shoulders.  
“Cas, what’s the thing with Heather being able to see your wings,” Dean asked, squinting his green eyes at where the feathers should be. “I only see them when you want me to, it seems like.” The hunter flailed his hands in the air, trying to feel them. Castiel didn’t look at him; he just took one step to the right, his hands in the pockets of his trench coat.   
“Dean, stop that. It tickles.”   
“What?” Castiel slid his eyes to Dean and let a small smile play at the corner of his lips. “Are you…did you just make a joke?”  
“Was it funny?”  
“Well…yeah, kind of.”  
“For an angel,” Crowley added from the other side of Dean. Cas’s smile widened a bit before he swung his stare back to the stage. “Although you never answered the question, Wings. Why can she see the blasted things when no one else can?”  
“Obviously, she was touched by an angel somewhere in her past.” Dean and Crowley exchanged a look then caught Sam’s eye, who made a face, his lips pulling downwards in a confused frown and shrugged.   
“Well, obviously,” the king replied, deadpan.  
“We’ve all been ‘touched by an angel’,” Dean pointed out impatiently. “None of us can see your wings.”   
“I really don’t have time to explain this to you, Dean,” Castiel growled. “I have to focus on this mission.”  
“I hate to break it to you, pal, but your mission is to keep an eye on Brody, not the wing whisperer.”   
“I am a celestial being, Dean. I am able to see more things than what it appears I am looking at.” Sam and Crowley chuckled while the elder Winchester pursed his lips and shot the angel a dirty look. It was true; before the show when Brody introduced the group to their bassist and drummer, Cas could read them like their thoughts were tattooed on their skin. Shawn, the bass player: A tall, thin man with a shaved head and cold, dark eyes, was craving a drink. It was all he could think about. Rhonda, Wicked Cherry’s drummer, who was tall, attractive, curvy, and blonde, was thinking about sex and it embarrassed Castiel to feel what she was thinking about wanting to do to him. And Dean. And Heather thrown in for fun. Sometimes being an angel around humans was uncomfortable.  
“You can’t really blame Castiel. though,” Crowley pointed out. “Heather does clean up nicely.” Sam nodded in approval, Dean grunted his agreement, but Cas never moved a muscle nor spoke, although his eyes still seemed to follow her. Her red hair was down, a mass of curls that floated just past her shoulders. Her make-up had been done to specifically target her green eyes, which shone in the spotlights. She had changed into a pair of straight leg jeans, a black tank top with the name of her band spelled out in red gems, and a black and red flannel shirt tied around her waist. She wore no shoes; her toenails were painted a blood red.   
She was singing a song about love and lust, interacting with the crowd and her band members, a flurry of activity on the stage. The album that they were promoting was called Carnival of Fools so their set-up resembled a carnival. Their light show consisted of brightly colored spotlights twisting and turning all over the arena. The entire back of the stage was a giant screen that played images of carnival scenes. Their one big prop was a huge ferris wheel that actually descended from the ceiling. During the song “Spin Around,” Brody was strapped to the machine and played while it spun. The crowds always lost their minds during that part of the show and tonight had been no exception.   
Heather had been sharing the mic with Shawn when a discordant guitar chord echoed through the arena. More than half the crowd didn’t even notice but the band did. So did the four men standing backstage. All eyes immediately swung to Brody, who was doing his best to continue playing his part. It was obvious that he was having a hard time continuing. Dean and Sam both looked in Castiel’s direction but he was already gone.


	6. Chapter 6

Castiel had been telling the truth; while most of his attention had been focused on the woman who could see his wings, he was also watching the crowd, the guitarist, and the backstage area on the other side. He was beginning to think that his theory was going to be proven wrong when suddenly there was a roar in his head and an implosion of dark light in front of the stage. Without a word, he transported himself to the source of the disturbance. There was a void in the shape of a man directly in front of Brody’s side of the stage; Cas understood how the musician would be frightened when he laid eyes on this fallen angel.   
“Castiel.” A voice rumbled through his head, a voice he knew only he, and possibly Brody could hear. “You need to leave, This does not concern you.”  
“Zekiah,” Castiel greeted the entity with no warmth. “This does concern me now that Raphael is no longer with us.”  
“This is the time, Castiel. The prophecy must be fulfilled and I need these humans to do their part.”  
“This is not their destiny, Zekiah. You do not have to do this.”  
“Why don’t you understand?” The roaring in Cas’s head got louder, almost unbearable, even by angel standards. “I must fulfill this prophecy. It is mine to fulfill. Raphael understood that in his way. Why can’t you?” Castiel knew that his answer wouldn’t make sense to this dark creature. He had never been human like Cas had, would never understand the terror and confusion he was raining down on people like Brody and Heather. Innocents who never asked to be part of some ancient angel prophecy.   
“You need to forget this, Zekiah. It is a fool’s mission.” Castiel closed his hand around the angel blade in his trench coat pocket, just in case he was forced to use it. Although, he wasn’t sure if it would work on someone like Zekiah. He was older than any living angels…older than anything Cas had ever come up against. The roaring increased to a decibel that brought Castiel to his knees before he could stop himself. He tried to pull the blade out but the sound was incapacitating him.   And just as soon as it started, it stopped. When Cas looked up, Zekiah was gone. He was surrounded by humans looking down at him in concern. “Dude, you all right,” One guy yelled over the music. “Do you need medical attention?”   
“No, I’m…fine,” he answered, allowing the man to help him to his feet. “Thank you.” The guy nodded at him before returning his attention to the concert; it was then he realized there was no music playing and Brody was missing. Heather was addressing the crowd in a calm tone. Without pausing to listen to what she was saying, he simply transported himself to Brody’s side. It turned out he was just offstage, bent over at the waist, throwing up what looked like everything he had ever eaten in his life. Sam and Dean were at his side along with two security guards, Brody’s guitar tech who was holding his instrument, and their redheaded manager. Crowley hovered in the background, looking disgusted. Dean had a hand on Brody’s back for support. When the hunter saw Castiel, he stepped back to give the angel room to work.  
“Brody,” Cas said, his voice sympathetic. He gently placed a hand on Brody’s head. Within seconds, the vomiting had ceased and the guitarist stood up straight, taking a deep breath. He tottered a bit and both Winchesters shot their hands out to steady him. That was when Castiel saw the blood seeping from his ears and his nose. Haley handed Brody a wet towel and a bottle of water, both of which he took gratefully. He wiped his face and took a big swig of the water.  
“Are you okay,” his manager asked, her pretty features pulled into a mask of worry. Brody nodded, finishing off the bottle.   
“Yeah, it must have been my pre-show meal,” he croaked, his throat raw from all the vomiting. “Remind me to never have tilapia again.” He chuckled, exchanging a glance with Castiel.   
“You all right to go back out, or…” She made a face that indicated she was not keen on cutting this show short but she would for him if she needed to. Brody threw an arm around her and squeezed her shoulders.   
“I’m good. Seriously,” he insisted when Haley peered up at him, her eyes full of concern. “See, I’ll show you?” He grabbed his guitar from the tech and ran full speed onto the stage. His appearance caused the arena to explode with cheers. He took a few bows, slapped Shawn a high five, kissed Heather on her temple then pointed back at Rhonda who counted off the next song without missing a beat.  
“Damn, that guy is good,” Haley muttered with a smile as she walked off, the security guards following her. The janitor swooped in quickly to clean the mess so the boys moved off to the side. They watched Brody in silence for the first song before Sam had to ask.  
“Cas, for God’s sake, what the hell happened out there?”   
“I would rather only explain this once so if you don’t mind, I’ll wait until Brody is finished with his…gig.”   
“‘His gig’,” Dean laughed. “He’s around rock stars for a couple hours and suddenly he’s Jimi Hendrix.”   
“Cas is a fast learner, Dean,” Sam responded with a smile. “Look how quickly he learned how to drive.”  
“And use a computer.”   
“And tell jokes,” Crowley added, rejoining the group. Dean gave him an appreciative nod for his input before giving him hell for leaving during the vomiting incident. Castiel tuned their voices out, focusing on the problem at hand. He came into this case knowing for certain that he was dealing with a fallen angel but he had no idea just how powerful this being had become over the centuries. To finish this, he would need more than an angel blade. And the cost would be much more than anyone involved could ever imagine.


	7. Chapter 7

It was a long while before Castiel got to tell his story. There were two encores to wait through, then a meet and greet with fans, followed by a bus ride back to their hotel. A ride, Heather couldn’t help but notice, that Dean and Rhonda did not join them for. They made eyes at each other through the entire autograph session and as soon it was finished, they took off in Dean’s Impala with a promise, from him, to be back at the hotel ASAP.   
They met up in Brody’s hotel room, ordered room service, and sat down to relax while they waited for Dean. His room was the largest suite the hotel offered with a spacious sitting room separate from the bedroom. Cas, Sam, and Brody sat around an antique dining table in plush Hepplewhite Square chairs, while Heather and Crowley occupied the plum colored loveseat across the room. Heather was still in her concert attire, except now she was wearing her flannel shirt. Brody always kept his room chilly.   
She couldn’t deny the King of Hell was a sexy man in his suit and tie, his wicked smile and quick wit. They sat facing each other, their knees almost touching. Heather had a bottle of Diet Pepsi in her hand while Crowley sipped from a snifter filled with brandy. “Soda pop your drink of choice after a show,” he asked her, one eyebrow raised. She laughed.  
“My drink of choice all of the time, mostly,” she answered. “I’ve never been a big drinker and after seeing how it’s affected Shawn, well…” she trailed off with a shrug.  
“Shawn is the other man in your band.” She nodded. “Yes, I could smell the longing for drink oozing from him.” Crowley took a drink, closing his eyes and savoring the flavor. “I could help him with his…problem.”  
“I’m sure you could,” Heather said with a wry tone. She took a sip of her soda and glanced over at the three men; Cas was standing at the head of the table while the other two were laughing, obviously at Castiel’s expense. She wanted to say something to them, tell Sam and Brody to leave the angel alone, but she knew that would just make it worse.   
“So I’ve lost my chance, is that it?” Crowley’s low voice pulled her attention back. His eyes had followed hers and had seen the way she had been looking at Castiel. Heather bit her lip and gave him a sheepish look. “It’s all about the angel now?”  
“I…I can’t explain it.” She looked him right in the eye while she placed her hand on his knee. “I like you. You’re cool and sexy and funny but…” She leaned in a little closer and whispered, “I think it’s the wings.”  
“You know,” Crowley whispered back, “I’ve got bits you can touch. They’re not wings but, I promise you, they’re just as fun.” When he winked, a loud, sharp laugh burst out of Heather, taking her by surprise. It was pure and sincere and made the King of Hell laugh as well when she covered her mouth with both hands.   
“Like I said, funny,” she told him once she got her breath back. He grinned sadly at her, then stood up.  
“I think it’s about time I ran,” he said. She jumped up and grabbed his hand.  
“Do you have to go? You’re not going to stick around to hear what’s going on?”  
“I know what’s going on and believe me, I wouldn’t be any help. But…” Crowley reached into the breast pocket of his suit coat and pulled out a business card, pressing it into Heather’s free hand. “…if you ever need anything…at all…don’t hesitate to call me.” He picked up the hand that was covering his, raised it to his lips, and kissed her knuckles once again, lingering longer this time and never breaking eye contact. Heather felt her pulse spike and her body flush. After what felt like ages, he released her hand. “It was lovely to meet you, Heather.” The King of Hell turned to face the men, who were all staring unabashedly. “Boys, it’s been a pleasure. Good luck, et cetera. Toodles.” And in a breath, he was gone.


	8. Chapter 8

“So, Dean knows where we are?” Sam nodded up at Castiel, who had been standing unmoving at the head of the table they sat at.   
“Yeah, I texted him Brody’s room number. He’ll be here when he’s…um…done.” Cas furrowed his brow while Brody, who sat across from the hunter, laughed heartily.   
“Knowing Rhonda, Dean might be a while.” After the show, Brody had immediately showered and changed into a pair of baggy grey sweats and a black Obey t-shirt so Haley could have the unenviable job of getting his vomit-covered clothes to the dry-cleaning service provided by the hotel. Sam hadn’t gotten a chance to get to the Impala for his duffel bag before Dean rushed off so he was still in his suit, although he had removed the jacket and tie, rolling up his shirt sleeves and unbuttoning the top three buttons. He and Brody were relaxing in their seats, both nursing beers and eating room service pizza. “Cas, you need anything? Pizza? Beer?”  
Castiel didn’t even acknowledge that Brody had asked him a question. His eyes were hard and narrow, focused solely on the couple sitting across the room. “Hey, Earth to Cas!” Sam raised his voice and waved a big hand in front of the angel’s face. He didn’t even blink. “Cas!”   
“I don’t like her talking to him,” the angel finally said, his voice low and almost petulant. The other two followed his eyes and realization dawned.   
“What’s the matter Cas,” Sam asked with a grin, “you jealous?”  
“No…” He gave Sam a hard look but his voice wasn’t convincing, especially since he swung his eyes back to Heather within a couple of seconds. “He’s dangerous. You of all people know that, Sam.”  
“Dean warned her, that’s all we can do.”  
“It’s not safe.”   
“Maybe you could go over and distract her with your wings again,” Brody suggested with a smirk.   
“Yeah,” Sam laughed. “Go stand behind Crowley and cover him up with them so all she sees is you!”  
“Can he feel them even if he can’t see them,” Brody wondered. “Like, a feather gets up his nose and he can’t stop sneezing?” The visual caused both men to crack up, while Castiel simply stood there stoically, the frown still marring his handsome features. Cas saw her glance over at him a couple of times but then her glance went right back to the King of Hell. The angel wasn’t sure why he was so concerned with her, besides the fact that she had been the only human in a millennia it seemed to be able to see his wings. It also might be because he could see humans as more than what they appeared to other humans.  
All beings were made of light, some brighter, some dimmer. Heather shone incredibly bright and Castiel didn’t want to see that light diminished because of someone like Crowley. As he watched, the king leaned in and said something to Heather that caused her to bark out a loud laugh. It got the other two’s attention and they all watched the couple across the room. They watched as he handed her his business card and they watched as he kissed her hand and stared into her eyes. After bidding them adieu in a not-so-subtle way, the man left the room. Heather stood there for a few beats before turning and walking over to join them at the table. Her cheeks were flushed and she had a dopey grin on her face.  
“You get a date,” Brody teased. She shook her head as she sat down next to her best friend, giving him a hard smack on the shoulder for good measure.   
“Shut up!” She grabbed a slice of pizza and took a big bite before asking, “I take it Dean is still tied up with Rhonda.”   
“Yeah, probably literally,” Brody laughed. Heather joined him but Sam made a face.  
“Aw, hell, that was a vision I definitely didn’t ever need in my head.” That just made the other two laugh even harder.   
“Do you think she broke out the whip?” Heather’s inquiry just made Sam groan louder and cover his ears with his hands.   
“Of course,” Brody answered, barely able to keep a straight face. “Dean looks like the kind of guy who would enjoy being dominated.”  
“LaLaLaLa….can’t hear you….” The big, bad hunter closed his eyes and rocked back and forth in his chair while Brody and Heather piled on the images. Finally they took pity on him. To make amends, Heather jumped up and got Sam another beer while grabbing herself another soda. When she returned, Castiel was sitting at the head of the table, still as stoic as ever, talking with Brody about their shared experience during the show.  
“It was all just noise to me,” Brody was saying, his hands waving around his head in demonstration. “Like white noise and bees buzzing and engines grinding and people screaming all rolled into one nasty ball.”  
“That’s how it was for me at the end,” Castiel agreed.  
“But before that you actually heard him talking?”  
“Yes.”  
“But we’re waiting for Dean to hear the whole story?”  
“Yes.”  
“Are you always this succinct?”  
“Yes.” Brody laughed and Castiel looked confused. He didn’t think what he had said was funny.   
“I like this guy,” the guitarist smiled, grabbing another slice.


	9. Chapter 9

They were into their second room service pizza when Dean showed up, freshly showered, wearing black boots, faded jeans, a black t-shirt, and a blue and white long-sleeved plaid shirt. He was also carrying a six-pack of beer and a large pizza box. “Sorry I’m late. I got a little tied up.” Brody and Heather cracked up, both of them looking at Sam, who had shut his eyes and was shaking his head as he slid down in his chair.  
“We told you,” Brody snorted, almost choking on his beer. Heather was laughing so hard she was crying. Cas was the only sane person in the room at the moment, Dean realized; neither one of them were getting the joke. Rolling his eyes, he put the goodies on the table and slid into the chair next to his brother, waiting for everyone else to calm down. He opened a bottle of beer, grabbed a slice and was halfway done with his midnight snack when the musicians had finally composed themselves. Sam cleared his throat and sat up straight, giving Dean a quick look he didn’t comprehend; after that he seemed to refuse to even glance at him.  
“Want a beer, Sammy?” The tall man took the proffered bottle without looking, his jaw twitching, which made Heather and Brody start the mirth all over again. “Okay, what?” Dean was starting to get mad.  
“I’m sorry, we’re sorry,” Heather said, trying to catch her breath and stop laughing. “It’s just that we kind of scarred your brother for life with visions of what you and Rhonda were probably doing.”  
“Yeah,” Brody jumped in, “we were teasing him about whips and bondage and…” Sam pointed a finger at the pair and grunted.  
“Do not start this again,” he warned. “I have a gun and I’m not afraid to use it.” Both offenders immediately sat up straight and sobered. Brody put his hands in the air while Heather put hers in her lap. She hung her head, her eyes downcast until Dean chuckled.  
“Sounds like you forgot about the whipped cream.” Heather’s eyes shot back up in surprise and the guitarist barked out a short laugh.  
“God damn it, Dean!” Sam ran his fingers through his long hair and turned on his brother.  
“A little candle wax, too. And…oof!” Dean never got to finish since his brother pushed him out of the chair and onto the floor in an undignified heap. He jumped up and straightened his shirt, fixed his hair, and sat back down. “Sounds like someone’s a little jealous.”  
“Dean…”  
“Can we all focus, please?” Cas’s Daddy Voice rang through the hotel suite and promptly silenced the room. “Now that Dean is here, we need to discuss the task at hand.”  
“And what is that, exactly,” Brody asked, suddenly very business like. “I get the feeling you know exactly who and what it is we’re dealing with.”  
“I do. What I’d like you to do first, though, is tell everyone about your experience tonight.” Brody shrugged and started to talk. Heather had heard it already; he had filled her on the bus ride to the hotel. She listened for a bit then started to zone out, her eyes trailed across the table to Castiel’s wings. She was still amazed that she could see them and no one else could. Her fingers itched to touch them again, to feel that sensation just one more time. She was long gone in her memory when suddenly Castiel was standing next to her chair. “Heather. I need you to focus.”  
“I am…” before she finish, the angel had placed a hand firmly on either side of her head. His thumbs gently shut her eyelids and he caressed them. Her confusion at what he was doing was overshadowed by an odd shifting inside of her. She had never felt anything like it before and wasn’t sure she could describe it to someone if her life depended on it. But when Cas drew his hands away and she opened her eyes, everything was different.   
His wings were gone.  
“Where did your wings go?” Heather hated that her voice came out in almost a whine.  
“I need you to focus.” His voice was gruff and cutting as he walked back to his chair but didn’t sit down. “If my wings are a distraction, they need to be removed.”   
“I-you…but…” She was mortified that her eyes filled with tears. She felt like she had been stabbed in the heart and knew that if she tried to explain why she wasn’t listening to Brody’s story she would sound like a petulant teenager. Instead, she took a deep breath, sat up straight, and blinked away her tears, putting on what she hoped was a professional face. “I apologize,” she said coldly, her eyes burning into his. It was a small, petty victory when he couldn’t meet her gaze.  
“What the hell, man,” Brody exploded. “Why would you do that?” He started to get up from his chair but Heather put a hand on his arm to keep him seated.  
“Brody, it’s fine,” she told him. He knew better than to keep arguing so he stayed in his seat but sighed angrily, shooting a dirty look at the angel. Even Sam and Dean were taken aback by Castiel’s actions.   
“Even for you, that was a dick move, Cas,” Dean said, shaking his head. “A real dick move.”   
“I need everyone to…”  
“Focus, yeah, we fucking get it,” Sam blurted out. Heather looked across the table at him in surprise. He returned her gaze with one full of apology. She smiled sadly at him and he reached over and rubbed the back of her hand quickly. Brody slung a protective arm around her and glared at Castiel.  
“Well, since we’re all focusing now,” Brody growled, “maybe you’d like to start.” Cas looked abashed but went ahead and started talking.


	10. Chapter 10

“Since the beginning, there’s been a hierarchy in Heaven.   
“God, Zekiah, the archangels, the angels.” His hand moved down a couple inches after each entity was named.  
“Zekiah?” Sam’s voice was still angry but he had to ask the question. “I’ve never heard of a Zekiah.”  
“Humans aren’t the first race to take advantage of revisionist history,” Castiel explained. “Zekiah was a zealot and a hard taskmaster. He was known as The Dragon. When he fell, everyone was more than happy to pretend he never existed.”  
“Is Zekiah the man we’ve been dreaming of,” Brody asked.   
“Yes. Once God created everything, He sat back and let Zekiah have the reins. Zekiah looked on the archangels as his children but his favorite was Nehemiah. When humans were created and Lucifer…well, you all know that story. After Lucifer was banished, Nehemiah, who was close with Lucifer, decided to show God how wrong he was about humankind. He took a band of thirteen angels to Earth and slaughtered hundred of innocent humans, just to show how weak they were. When Nehemiah and his warriors returned, sure they would reap God’s favor, they were surprised to find the gates of Heaven closed to them. They too, just like Lucifer, were banished, with a snap of His fingers.   
Zekiah went crazy. He tried to get God to change his mind, reinstate Nehemiah, but God refused. He then tried to burn Heaven down with holy fire, tried to kill God so he could take over and bring his favorite son back. God, though, staved him off and…twisted his grace as punishment.”  
“Twisted?” The question came in unison from the hunters.   
“God hid his grace inside him. He can feel it but can’t use it, can’t get to it. It drove him mad, madder than anyone ever expected. He concocted a plan to get Nehemiah and his brothers freed from Hell and to get his grace back. This plan became the oldest prophecy in Heaven’s history.” Cas closed his eyes for a fraction of a second; when he opened them, they were glowing blue and his voice had an echo to it.  
“A Slaughtered Lamb Begins The End   
Of the Dragon and his Army of Sinned   
The Crimson Songbird will be Lock or Key  
Sacrifice Ends the Beginning  
The Embrace Returns the Dawn  
In a Barren Field the Beloved  
Will be Nurtured  
And the Whole of the World and Heaven  
Shall Know.”  
Cas blinked and he was back to normal. The group of people around the table, however, were far from fine. The brothers had seen and heard a lot of crazy things in their years on the job but this one just might take the cake. Heather and Brody, as easily as they had accepted that something supernatural was happening to them never expected anything of this magnitude. Heather rubbed her arms, trying to get rid of the goose bumps that covered her skin.  
“So…this Zekiah…does he think I’m part of this plan?” Brody’s voice shook. He ran a hand down the back of his neck.  
“Yes.”   
“But why?”  
“I’m not sure yet. I need to talk to some angels, if I can find them and if they’ll tell me what they know.”  
“Why wouldn’t they tell you,” Brody asked. “Aren’t angels all one big, happy family?” Sam and Dean surprised him by laughing sarcastically at his innocent question. Cas rolled his eyes; the musician wasn’t sure if the action was directed at his naiveté or at the hunters.  
“No, angels, despite the mythology, aren’t perfect. We fight, we plot, we destroy.” The angel looked ashamed, his eyes turning to the floor for a moment. “Raphael was one of Zekiah’s ‘children’ and in the end, turned out to be his jailer. He protected the world from the prophecy, kept it from coming to fruition. But I killed Raphael and now that job must fall to me.”


	11. Chapter 11

“So tonight has been, without a doubt, the weirdest night I’ve ever had in my entire life.” Brody was sitting in his customary spot on his bed, the covers over his head as he talked into his camera for his latest video. Heather sat in an overstuffed easy chair across the room, legs tucked underneath her, listening to him. She had changed into a pair of black and grey flannel pajama pants, a grey long sleeved thermal top with a print of The Beatles on the front, and a pair of thick, white socks. Her red hair was once again up in a messy bun on top of her head and she had scrubbed her make-up off. She decided she would share Brody’s room and give up her room so Sam and Dean didn’t have to pay for one. Her suite was only slightly smaller than Brody’s and the feature that sold them: the couch was a hide-a-way. They wouldn’t have to share a bed or cram their large frames into singles. They all exchanged cell numbers and decided to play the next day by ear. It was after 3am and tomorrow was a free day for the band. No one wanted to start the day early if they didn’t have to.   
“I met some guys tonight who not only totally believe that what we’re going through is real, they’re going to help us figure everything out. No questions asked, they just want to help get my life, and Heather’s, back to normal.” While Brody was describing their evening, Heather thought about the questions they had posed to Cas after his story:  
Why did Zekiah only show up in dreams?  
Why was it ever only in Brody and Heather’s dreams?  
Why did he only start making physical appearances once they got to Atlanta?  
Castiel’s answers for those questions were all the same: once he got into contact with an angel who knew the story and didn’t want to kill him, he would enlighten them. Sam and Dean didn’t seem to find the fact that Castiel’s own actively wanted him dead an odd thing and she wondered just what kind of angel he was. After all, he casually admitted that he had killed one. And not just any angel: Raphael, the archangel. One of the biggies. Heather sighed as he invaded her thoughts. She was still angry and hurt and mortified that he treated her the way he had, taking away something so amazing without a care. As they were all dispersing, Dean had apologized to her for Cas.  
“He’s blunt as hell and doesn’t stop to think about human feelings when he’s on a mission,” he told her, slinging an arm around her. “I’m pretty sure he feels real shitty about it.”  
“He doesn’t act like it.” She sounded like a sulky child and she grimaced inwardly. Luckily, it seemed as if Dean didn’t notice.  
“Cas is complicated. If I were you, I wouldn’t be surprised if he apologizes in some weirdo way like getting you a kitten or bringing you a sandwich.” She looked over at him, not sure if she should laugh or not. Dean’s face was as serious as it could be. “Just accept it and move on, trust me. He dislikes anger in others. It…worries him.” After their talk, Heather kept an eye on the angel, hoping that he would come over and say something but he never did. He never once looked in her direction. Once Sam and Dean vacated the suite, he followed without a backwards glance.   
“I saw your Tweets and Facebook posts asking if I was okay and I just wanted to say that I’m fine. I appreciate all of your concern. I love all of you guys!” Heather’s heart swelled as she listened to her best friend gush over the fans. He was unfailingly sweet to them, no matter what. He was always the last one out there signing autographs and taking pictures long after the rest had bailed. She adored Brody and couldn’t imagine her life without him.   
“So, there’s today’s crazy story for you. We’ll see how tomorrow goes but I’ll def post a vid for you guys! Peace!” Heather noticed how he left out the facts that they had met an honest to God angel and the King of Hell. “Okay, done! You ready for bed?” Brody popped his head out from the blankets and grinned at her.  
“So ready,” she yawned, pulling herself out of the chair. She was almost to the bed when someone knocked on the bedroom door. Heather froze and looked wide-eyed at Brody. Her heart was hammering; someone was in the suite! Brody jumped out of bed and darted to the door.  
“Who is it,” he asked, leaning his whole body weight against the door in case whoever it was tried to get in.   
“Castiel.” Heather felt like all her breath left her body. Why was he here?   
“Cas? Um, hold on…” Brody looked back at her. “Should I let him in?”  
“He’s probably here to talk to you, so, yeah.” She crossed her arms over her chest as the door opened. Cas didn’t make a move to enter the room, even after Brody stepped back out of his way.   
“What’s up, buddy,” the guitarist asked. Castiel looked him up and down and Brody laughed, realizing he was only wearing a pair of Guitar Hero boxers. “Sorry, man, I was getting ready for bed.”  
“I don’t mean to disturb you. I needed to talk to Heather, if she’ll let me.” He sounded apprehensive and Heather felt a little of her resentment melt away.   
“Of course you can,” she said, walking up to him.   
“Can we go in here?” He gestured to the sitting room. She nodded and with a thumbs-up from Brody, she walked out of the bedroom, shutting the door behind her. Castiel walked over to the love seat and sat down, motioning for Heather to sit next to him. She did, trying not to sit too close. There was a small stretch of silence where they both simply stared at each other. Heather could feel her cheeks growing hot under his scrutiny but she refused to be the first to look away. Finally, Cas tilted his head and said, “You’re prettier without all of the make-up you had on for the show.”   
“Oh. Wow, um…thank you.” Her face was aflame and her smile had a life of it’s own. If he had been looking to soften her up, it was working.  
“Also, I would like to apologize for tonight. Dean and Sam explained to me how I tend to be too blunt at times and I hurt people I never intend to.” His blue eyes were filled with sorrow and his mouth was drawn into a frown. His hand twitched like he wanted to reach out and touch her but he thought better of the idea. “I only had the end goal in mind tonight and I didn’t stop to think that what I was doing to achieve that would hurt you.”  
“Castiel…” Heather broke the invisible barrier between them and placed a hand on his arm. “I understand why you did what you did but I won’t lie and say it didn’t devastate me.”  
“Devastate,” he repeated. “That’s a big emotion.”  
“It was a big betrayal.”  
“Betrayal. Another big one.” Heather raised her eyebrows at him, almost daring him to deny what he had done wasn’t as bad as she said. When he didn’t speak, she sighed.  
“I’m guessing that since you’re an angel, all these amazing, miraculous things you can see and do are just second nature to you. But as a human, these things are once in a lifetime, if you’re lucky. I met an angel tonight. An honest-to-God angel of the lord. And I could see his wings! Even you seemed shocked that I could, am I right?”  
“Well, yes.” He nodded, keeping his eyes on her.  
“So this sudden ability that I discovered tonight, this miracle that made me feel special and unique, was ripped away so suddenly and indecorously. In the blink of an eye, literally, I went from being special to being average again. It felt like you ripped my heart out, Cas. Does that…” she had to stop to take a breath. She felt tears threatening again and her insides hurt as she relived the incident. She removed her hand from his arm and placed it on her heart, “…does that make sense?”  
“Yes.” Castiel reached out slowly and covered her hand on her chest. His touch was warm and soothing. It wasn’t long before her heart rate slowed and her tears dried. “Heather, I am so sorry I…devastated and betrayed you. I never want to do that again.” The longer he held her hand and peered into her eyes, the less she was able to breathe properly. She was on the road to forgiving him when he suddenly broke contact, looking away. “I brought you something. A way to…make amends.” The corners of Heather’s mouth turned up as she watched him slide his hand into the pocket of his trench coat. She was more than halfway expecting a kitten, but what he pulled out completely took her breath away.  
It was a feather. One single feather, laying in the palm of his hand, vibrating slightly. His hands were large and the feather took up almost all of it. Heather cautiously reached out to touch it, only to stop and pull her hand back. “This is…yours,” she whispered. “From your wings?”  
“Yes.” He pushed his hand a little closer to her so she took the plunge and touched it lightly with her fingertips. She felt the electricity in a minuscule form this time but the feeling of safety and warmth still enveloped her. Looking away from the feather and up to Cas, she saw him smiling softly at her. It was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen.   
“And this is for…” Her voice caught and she had to clear her throat before trying again. “This is for me? To…to keep?” If possible, his smile deepened.  
“Yes.” She picked it up out of his hand and cradled it in hers, stroking the feather lightly. “I can feel you touching it,” he announced. She stopped the petting and snapped her eyes up to his.  
“Really? What does it feel like?”  
“Soft. Like a caress. It’s…nice.” He reached out and closed her fingers over the feather; it was so large it draped out over her hand, quivering against her skin. “Whenever you need me, you can call me. Angels can hear prayers and pick up on needs…even longings. We’re connected now.” Castiel’s hand lingered and Heather’s heart knocked hard in her chest. She felt light-headed in a good way.  
“Thank you,” she breathed, not breaking the eye contact. Heather wanted to lean in, feel his lips on hers, breathe in his essence. As soon as she had the thought, he blushed and sat back quickly, breaking all contact. Mortification flooded her body; he had just told her he picked up on longings. He obviously sensed what she wanted and it wasn’t what he wanted. “I’m sorry,” she choked out, jumping up from the love seat. “I-I don’t know why…I…you’re…I’m sorry.” Turning away from him, she walked shakily towards the bedroom door, the feather clutched in her hand.  
“Heather.” There was a rustling sound and he suddenly stood between her and the door. “Please don’t feel this way, so humiliated.” She couldn’t bring herself to meet his eyes; instead she focused on the buttons of his coat, tried to keep her mind blank. “Why are you thinking about buttons,” he asked. The confusion in his voice made her smile but she didn’t raise her eyes.   
“They’re safe,” she said softly, a sad smile spreading over her face. Castiel put his knuckles under her chin and gently raised her head, forcing her to look at him. His eyes were unendingly blue and kind.   
“Please understand that I don’t mean to hurt you. I’m still learning when it comes to human emotions.” His smile was warm and served as a balm for her hurt feelings. “You have such a bright light within you and twice tonight I’ve been the reason it dimmed. I am so sorry.”   
“Cas.” It was all she could say. He smiled widely.  
“You forgive me. I can see it.” She blushed and ducked her head, moving it away from his hand.   
“Maybe,” she chuckled. “Thank you for the feather. It means the world to me.”   
“You’re welcome.” With those two words, he disappeared, leaving her alone and in a whirl of emotion.


	12. Chapter 12

Brody stood in the pit, surrounded by blood and screams. It was no different than the other dreams; the smell of fear, the taste of electricity in the air, the man (Zekiah, Brody thought) standing on the hill. This time, however, there was more substance to Zekiah. He had a shape, a face…  
“Come to me, my son.”  
A voice.  
In the blink of an eye, Brody was standing on the hill next to him. It was terrifying to see his features and he closed his eyes, wishing feverishly that he could wake up. “Open you eyes, boy, and see the world as it should be.” That voice still buzzed in his head but this time the words, actual words, cut through him like ice. Brody shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut tighter. “THIS IS YOUR DESTINY!” The voice thundered and seemed to cause a minor earthquake underneath Brody’s feet. He fell to his knees and his eyes flew open in self-preservation. He landed hard on the rocks and skinned his palms. The right one was bleeding a bit and he ground it into the dirt in hopes the pain would wake him up.   
He didn’t.  
Zekiah’s hand was on his shoulder, burning. Brody yelled out and tried to scramble away from him. It was impossible; the man’s grip was like a vice. “Stand up.” The command was delivered calmly but there was a threatening tone behind it. Brody swallowed hard and did as he was told, whispering, “God help me.” He tried not to look at Zekiah but the fallen angel grabbed his chin and forced him. “Look at me, absorb my form, the twisted, broken form that God gave to me. You think He will help you? After all this time, you think God-“ he sneered as he said the name, “is there to help you? He is cruel and heartless. He takes and takes and never gives. Never gives!”   
Brody stared at the man, at Zekiah, the fallen angel, for the first time, soaking his visage in. He was tall and hulking, towering over the musician. His dark hair was long and whipped around his head like angry snakes. His lips were full and fleshy, twisted in madness but his eyes…his eyes turned Brody’s soul cold. They were huge and black but a tinge of yellowish-white light edged the black, like the good in him was trapped and fighting to escape. He couldn’t stop staring; as much as he wanted to, those eyes drew him in.  
“Do you understand your destiny,” Zekiah boomed. Brody shook his head minutely. “You are the beginning but you can also be the end. There is a war coming and you are the key.”  
“I…don’t really want to be a key,” he answered, his voice thin and shaky.   
“You do not have a choice.” Surprisingly, Zekiah’s voice was soft, as if he was almost sorry that Brody was in this situation. “You are the key. It just depends on which way you turn as to what happens.”  
“What do you mean?”  
“The woman. She is the vessel. You can save her or you can save the world.”  
“The woman? What woman…Heather? You mean Heather?” He never thought it was possible to feel as much fear as did in that moment. “And what are you talking about, vessel?”  
“She is the vessel needed to bring my son back to the light, to set the world to rights. But in order to do so, she must die.”  
“NO!! No, I won’t allow that!” He balled his hands into fists as he yelled at the fallen angel.   
“You would do anything to save this woman, then?”   
“Absolutely.” Brody rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet, his mouth dry. Zekiah opened his mouth and told him what he had to do.


	13. Chapter 13

Heather realized she was alone the second she opened her eyes. Brody wasn’t in bed, nor in the room. She sat up, glanced at the clock and saw it was after 1pm. Groaning, she stretched her arms over her head and rolled her neck, listening to the little pops. That had been the best night sleep she’s had since she got into Atlanta. Deep, dreamless, and restful; she credited Castiel’s feather for that. She hoped Brody had slept just as well. Dragging herself out of bed, she padded into the bathroom first, used the toilet, washed her face and hands, then gave her hair a cursory once over in the mirror. It was fly-away and straggly but it was still in a bun so it would do for now. She picked up Cas’s feather from the nightstand, slid it in her pants pocket, and headed out of the room.  
She found Brody in the sitting area on the couch, drinking a mug of coffee and watching ESPN on the big screen TV. He was wearing his old grey sweats and black Obey shirt again, his hair was going everywhere, and he looked like he hadn’t slept a wink. Her heart sunk as she sat next to him. “Good morning.” He sat the mug down on the coffee table, turned to face her, and without saying a word, threw his arms around her, hugging her tight. Caught by surprise, Heather didn’t do anything for a second. When he didn’t let go right way, she slid her arms around him and returned the embrace. “What’s going on?” No answer, just a tighter squeeze and a sigh. “Brody? You’re scaring me.”  
“Did you dream last night?” His voice sounded strained.  
“No, did you?”  
“Yeah, I did. It was the worst one yet.” He broke the hug and sat back, looking at her with bloodshot eyes that were surrounded by dark, heavy bags.  
“What? Why would you dream and I wouldn’t? I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…I…I wonder if it was the feather?” She slid her hand in her pocket and covered it lightly. It buzzed at her touch. Did this have the power to block Zekiah from her mind? “Brody, what happened in the dream?” He waved off her question with a shake of his head.  
“I love you, you know that, right?” She closed her eyes, not wanting to see his sad, haunted eyes. “Right,” he asked a little louder when she didn’t respond.  
“Of course,” she finally answered, her heart pounding as she looked at him. She was terrified now. “And I love you back. Brody, tell me what’s going on. Please.” She grabbed his hands in hers and held on for dear life. Brody opened and closed his mouth, each time making Heather think he was going to tell her about what had him so freaked out. Finally, he sighed. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to worry you. It was a very vivid dream and now that we know his name…I think that gave him a little more power, you know?”  
“Did he hurt you?” Brody turned his hands palms up. When Heather saw the scratches covered in dried blood, she gasped. “Where did these come from?”  
“The dream. I think.” He described how he had fallen and tried to use the pain as a way to wake up. “But it didn’t work. He pulled me up and kept yelling at me. ‘THIS IS YOUR DESTINY!’ He kept drilling it into me…”   
“What is your destiny?” Brody stared at her for a few seconds, then he shrugged.   
“I don’t know. He never really said. He just kept yelling at me.” His eyes wouldn’t meet hers and Heather didn’t quite believe him. She was positive that something had happened in the dream that he didn’t want to share because it would worry her. He had always been protective of her, one of his most admirable traits, but this time, she wasn’t going to let him get away with it.  
“Brody, we’ve been in this thing together from the beginning. Don’t you dare freeze me out now! What did that man say to you?” He looked her straight in the eye this time.  
“Nothing. I woke up before he explained.” He crossed his heart with his finger then put both hands in the air. “Swear on my life.”


	14. Chapter 14

Sam Winchester was in his element; sitting at a hotel room table, beer bottle on his right, laptop in front of him, researching their latest case. Dean sat across from him, frowning. His brother hated research and if Sam were a betting man, he’d wager that most of Dean’s time so far had been spent on BustyAsianBeauties.com. Luckily, his other two companions were all about research. Heather and Brody sat at he opposite end of the table, completely immersed in their laptop.   
Brody looked like he hadn’t slept at all. Sam had lost count of how many cups of coffee the guy had downed. Heather, on the other hand, was fully rested and bouncy, eager to prove her mettle when it came to finding facts. She had already discovered that you could kill a fallen angel with a substance called Qeres. Sam had known about this but she was so excited to have found it, he let her have her victory. Some people said that it was a perfume used in the mummification process in ancient Egypt and, when poured over a knife blade, could kill an angel. There were scholars, however, that said that Qeres was not a perfume but instead the actual chamber where the sarcophagus was placed. Not being an expert in hieroglyphics, Sam was unable to do his own research on the word, and had to rely on the studies of others. It was something to keep in mind, though, until they heard from Cas.  
The angel had disappeared early that morning and hadn’t been heard from since. Dean had texted him numerous times with no replies. They could only hope he had found a friendly angel and not one of the multitudes who would be happy to see him exterminated.   
Of course, there was nothing on Zekiah. Cas had been right about that; it was if he never existed. Sam had been looking for hours for any mention of the angel and was getting nowhere.  
“Oh my God…I’m so bored!” Dean’s outburst caused the other three to stop what they were doing and stare at him. He leaned back in his chair and scrubbed his face with his hands, groaning as he did so. “What time is it?”  
“6:24p.m.,” Sam answered.   
“I’ve been poking around finding nothing for four hours. This is ridiculous.”  
“Dean, this is all we can do right now until…” His words were cut short by a rustling noise and the appearance of Castiel behind Heather and Brody. “Cas! About time!” The angel grimaced at him and sat down in the chair at the head of the table next to Heather. He looked drained, his entire face drawn downwards.  
“Are you okay,” Heather asked, immediately reaching out for his hand. She stopped just millimeters from his fingers, as if she were afraid to touch him. Cas surprised Sam by closing the distance and covering her hand with his.   
“I’m fine. Tired. It was an arduous journey.”   
“Did you find someone who would talk peacefully?” Dean’s eyes were also on the angel’s hand. He looked at his brother pointedly, questions in his green eyes. Sam subtly shrugged and gave him a quick “no clue” face.   
“I did. An angel named Gideon.” His voice was heavy and slow and his blue eyes drooped. “If you’re ready to hear what he had to say…”  
“Cas, you need rest,” Heather interrupted, looking at the others for back-up. They all nodded, although there were different degrees of disappointment on their faces. Sam especially had been excited to get the story; putting all the pieces of a puzzle together made him feel accomplished.  
“You look like you’ve been through hell, Cas,” Dean pointed out, His voice may have been rough but his eyes carried worry for his friend. Castiel shrugged.  
“It was a difficult task, a long journey, and a lot to take in.” He squeezed Heather’s hand once then stood up. “If you don’t mind waiting, I wouldn’t mind taking the time to rejuvenate.” He took the time to make sure everyone in the room nodded their permission, his eyes lingering a little longer on Heather, before he disappeared.  
“Okay, first things first,” Dean said, closing his laptop and staring at Heather, hands laced behind his head. “What’s going on with you and Cas?”   
“Dean, you can’t…” Sam started to protest the forwardness of his brother’s question then trailed off when he saw how red her whole face turned. “Whoa! Is there something going on between you and Cas?”  
“No!!” She shook her head forcefully. “No, it’s just…Dean, do you remember that ‘grand gesture’ you told me too look out for?”  
“Yeah.”  
“Well, he did it. But it wasn't a kitten or a sandwich. It was a feather.” Sam and Dean just stared at her, not understanding. “One of his feathers.”  
“From his wings?” Heather nodded at Sam’s question. “Wow, that’s…huge.”  
“Right?! Totally made up for what he did…which it sounds like I have you two to thank for that, by the way.”  
“No need to thank us.” Dean waved her words away. “I’m just glad he did right by you. Now!” He sat forward and clapped his hands together. “Since we know we have answers waiting for us, might as well take a break.”  
“I agree,” Brody said, standing up and stretching his arms above his head. “I could really go for a long, hot shower.”  
“How about we take a break and plan on getting together at say…8:30?” Sam looked around the room as everyone nodded. “We can hear Castiel’s story and coordinate our plan of attack…”  
“I’ve got a better idea,” the older Winchester butted in. “How about instead of working, we take a real break? Find a bar, play some pool, drink some beer, maybe sing a little karaoke.”  
“Now that sounds like a plan,” Brody exclaimed, pointing a finger at Dean. “Count me in! Heather?”  
“Um…yeah, why not? I think we could all use a little distraction.” They all swung their eyes to Sam. He sighed. He was a big fan of getting things done right away, no procrastination. His brother, however, had a more lackadaisical approach to hunting. He always took the chance to relax where get could get it.   
Come on, Sammy,” Dean prodded. “You know Cas as well as I do and he looked stressed the hell out about what he had to tell us. I think we need a night of fun before we jump in with both feet. It’ll do us good to chill out.” Sam sighed, knowing Dean was right. He gave up his dream of an all night research party, shutting his laptop as well and standing, his hands up in surrender.  
“All right, all right. Fine. I’m in.”


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I randomly picked an Atlanta bar. I only used the name. Everything else is just made up.*

10 High was a popular live-band karaoke bar in downtown Atlanta, very highly recommended by the staff at the hotel. It was located in the basement of a bar called the Dark Horse; it was spacious, dimly lit, and packed with people. No one really noticed when three famous rock stars walked in accompanied by two hunters and an angel of the lord. Castiel assessed the patrons of the bar and found no danger as he followed his group to a large booth in the back corner. He ended up on the end next to Sam. Heather and Brody sat in the center while Dean and Rhonda completed their circle.   
Both Winchesters were wearing jeans and boots; Sam had on a blue and green plaid button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows. Dean was wearing a black t-shirt and a black leather jacket. He hadn’t shaved and Rhonda seemed very taken with his 5 o-clock shadow; she kept running her hand on his face. He just grinned at her, winking. Rhonda had her long, thick, blonde hair down in wavy curls and she wore a pair of tight boot-cut jeans, pink cowboy boots and a pink hoodie that had the Alabama “A” across the front. Dean couldn’t take his eyes off of her, even after she jumped up to run to the bar to buy the first round.  
“Her thoughts about you are impure, Dean,” Castiel warned his friend. Everyone laughed, Dean’s the loudest.  
“I sure hope to hell they are,” he returned. “Or else I’d be very disappointed.” While Dean turned to Brody and started up a conversation and Sam and Heather discussed research topics, Castiel studied the musicians.   
Brody Sheppard looked calm and collected on the outside, his caramel colored hair pulled up under a tan beanie, his face relaxed as he laughed at something Dean had said. He was wearing camouflage Chuck Taylor high-tops, no socks even though it was chilly outside, faded Levi’s that were rolled up at the ankle, a tan colored t-shirt layered over a white tee, and a series of leather bracelets. Inside, though, Castiel could see the turmoil. He was terrified and it surrounded him like a dark cloud. He wanted to talk to Brody about what was going on, tell him everything he knew, maybe ease his mind a bit but Dean made him promise they wouldn’t “talk shop” tonight.  
Castiel had been resting when he got a “call” from Dean. He teleported to his hotel room to find everyone there, asking him to join them for a night of fun. He tried to back out but Heather asked him to come with such sincerity that he couldn’t say no. When he acquiesced to the request, her light started shining a little brighter. The angel had to admit that he was confused by her; he couldn’t stop thinking about her and found that she interrupted his thoughts at random times. He was usually very good at focusing but since he gave her his feather, he was finding it more and more difficult. He looked over at her, staring unabashedly.   
She was listening intently as Sam spoke, her green eyes focused only on him. She nodded or murmured a quick reply every once in a while. Her red hair was down, straight as a pin. She had make-up on but it was very subtle; Castiel wondered if it was a nod to what he had told her the night before. She was wearing a long white v-neck t-shirt that was tied in a knot on her right hip over a pair of black leggings that looked like leather, and a pair of black Converse low-tops. She had worn a thick black and grey sweater into the bar but removed it shortly after sitting down. The only jewelry she wore was a long, gold chain with his feather attached. Every once in a while, she would mindlessly stroke it. Castiel felt the touch like a small electric current through his body.   
Rhonda came back carrying a large round tray laden with drinks: a pitcher of beer with 3 mugs, a bottle of Jack Daniels and one shot glass, and a pitcher of soda with two tumblers. Heather took the soda pitcher and filled the tumblers up, pushing one over to Cas. She lifted hers in a toast as she grinned at him. “To us, the ones who will not be making drunken fools of themselves tonight,” she said, clicking her cup against his. He smiled at her and took a drink. He had developed a taste for soda while he was human and, although he didn’t indulge himself very often, he liked the drink. Rhonda and the Winchesters split the beer while Brody began doing shots right away.   
The live band karaoke had started and Dean was one of the first singers to take the stage. He did a slightly decent version of “We’ve Got Tonight” by Bob Seger that generated heavy applause, mostly from the women in the crowd. He didn’t seem to notice, though, as he kept his gaze turned in Rhonda’s direction most of the time. When he got back to the booth, she greeted him with a wet, sloppy kiss, grabbing his backside. He grinned devilishly, took her hand, and announced that they would be back. “Maybe,” he winked.   
Cas watched as the other three laughed and rolled their eyes. Brody joined Sam and Heather’s conversation so Castiel just sat there quietly and listened to people sing. Some were good, some were passable, and some were so bad that he had to resist the urge to pop out until they were done. Dean and Rhonda returned during a particularly horrendous version of “Don’t Stop Believin’.” They sat down, their faces flushed, their hands intertwined, and dumb smiles turned up on full. The Journey song finally ended and the host called out Heather’s name. “Now we’re talking,” Dean hollered, raising his beer mug at her. Being stuck in the middle of the booth, Heather stood up on the bench and weighed her options. Cas could tell she had decided it would be impossible to get around Dean and Rhonda since they seemed to be one unit.   
“Sam, I’m coming your way!” She grabbed his proffered hands and stepped gingerly over his legs. Castiel looked up at her and felt his heart kick a little at the way she smiled down at him. She released Sam’s hands and held hers out to Cas. He reached up and let her slide her hands into his. She twined her fingers into his as she stepped over him. She quickly hopped off of the booth onto the floor. She broke her grip on one hand but Castiel held tight to the other one. He couldn’t say why he didn’t let go, he just knew he didn’t want to. Her hand felt nice in his; right, somehow. Heather stared at his hand then up at his face, a small smile on her lips. He could feel the surprise radiate from her; there was some excitement and happiness rolled in there as well. She squeezed his hand then tugged away, turning to run through the maze of people.   
The angel could feel everyone at the table staring at him but he chose to ignore them. He didn’t feel he needed to explain himself to anyone. He was an angel of the lord, after all. If he wanted to hold someone’s hand, he didn’t see why he shouldn’t. Once Heather started singing, everyone’s attention moved from his actions to her. She had chosen Whitney Houston’s “Queen of the Night” and as soon as she started singing, people realized who she was. A crowd started to form at the stage and she fed on the energy, turning it up and getting into it. Cas pulled his eyes away from her long enough to look at his friends. It was obvious her band mates were proud of her; they both had huge grins on their faces. Sam and Dean looked suitably impressed with her, as well, even though they had seen her perform the night before.   
Castiel was proud of her, too, he realized with a start. He had known this woman for all of 24 hours but it was getting harder to deny there was a connection with her. Was it simply because she saw his wings? The light that he saw in her (which, was practically blinding at the moment)? Or was it something more? Cas wasn’t even sure how to go about investigating this. He had very little experience with women and relationships; every one he had ended poorly.   
He looked over at Dean with the blonde snuggled up against his chest. He wondered if he should ask him for advice. As he was pondering the idea, the hunter bent his head towards her and nipped her neck. Rhonda giggled and kissed him hard. Suddenly the air was clogged with both of their impure thoughts and Castiel shook his head, knowing Dean would only tell him to “go for it.” It wasn’t quite what he was looking for.  
Sam was next. Cas stared at him while he watched Heather, head bobbing to the infectious music. Sam longed for something more than the life of a hunter, he knew. He had his hands around the white picket fence lifestyle a couple of times but the job got in the way. Castiel tilted his head as he pondered; he would probably tell him this life didn’t jive with apple pie dreams and pulling her into it would just endanger her.  
That left Brody. The ex-husband. The best friend. The co-worker. Would he approve of an angel who worked with hunters wanting to investigate his attraction to her? As if he sensed his thoughts, the guitarist turned his head and looked right at Castiel. Then he nodded slightly before returning his attention to Heather. Brody was still giving off dark vibes not to mention already drunk, halfway to blitzed. It was obvious to Castiel that Brody was deeply worried but trying desperately to hide it from everyone. Castiel opened his mouth to talk to him about it but, once again, Dean’s warning rang in his ears. “I will duct tape your mouth shut if you bring up the case tonight.” Having experienced that torture before, it was not something the angel cared to have repeated. Instead, he promised himself that first thing in the morning he would hunt Brody down and tell him everything.   
Heather ended her song to thunderous applause and cheers. She wasn’t able to make it back to the table right away because she was mobbed by autograph and photograph seekers. Castiel, fearing for her safety, popped in behind her. “Heather, are you okay,” he whispered in her ear. She finished signing an autograph before she looked over her shoulder at him.   
“I’m fine, Cas, thanks.” Her smile warmed him as she turned to greet another fan. This one, a large, bald, burly man, slung his arm around her and held up his phone, snapping a picture. Castiel didn’t like the way this stranger was so free with his grabbing of her. Before he could say or do anything about it, stranger number one was gone, quickly replaced by another stranger who was just as touchy. And it kept happening, one person after another, asking for pictures and autographs and hugs and just wanting to talk to her. She was kind to each and every one of them, Castiel noticed, although she stood with her back very close to him the entire time.   
“This your bodyguard,” one guy asked, jerking his thumb as Cas, who was standing with his hands in his coat pockets, his brows furrowed, his mouth in a frown. Heather smiled and nodded.  
“You better believe it. He may look like your friendly neighborhood insurance salesman but trust me. Watch yourself or he’ll smite your ass.” She winked as she said it, making the man laugh.   
Castiel watched her deal with another handful of people before she called it quits, taking his hand, and pulling him through the crowd. “Where are we going,” he asked.  
“I love this song,” she replied, yelling to be heard over the woman singing Rihanna’s “Pon de Replay.” Castiel looked around and realized they were heading away from the table and into a mass of people dancing and sweating. This did not please him.   
“Heather, I have to tell you I was worried about all of those people around you,” he told her as he followed her through the labyrinth of bodies. “There’s so much potential for something to go wrong when you’re so nice to strangers. I don’t think that while we’re dealing with this case you should-“  
“Castiel, shut up and dance with me.” She grabbed his tie and pulled him close, sliding a hand inside his coat and around his waist.  
“I, uh…I don’t…dance, really…” He stopped talking when she picked up one of his hands with her free one and placed it on her waist. She left her hand on top of his and stepped a little closer, swaying her hips to the music. She tugged on his waist with a laugh.  
“Just follow my lead!”


	16. Chapter 16

No one said anything when Castiel disappeared suddenly. Dean and Rhonda were too into each other to notice and Brody seemed to be lost in his bottle. Sam was used to Cas’s odd behavior so he didn’t give it a second thought. At least, not until Heather didn’t return to the table after her song. Feeling a slight tinge of worry, the hunter sat up on the back of the booth and used his height advantage to scan the room. He spotted Cas first and couldn’t help but bark out a short laugh. He had never seen Castiel dance before and it was not pretty. How Heather talked him into it was beyond him. He was awkward and stiff and obviously had no idea what to do with any of his limbs. His legs were wooden, his free arm swung out at an odd angle and his hips wiggled completely out of time to the music. Heather looked like she was having a ball, though. Her face was lit up by a brilliant smile and she didn’t even seem to notice or care how abysmal her dance partner was.   
Sam’s enjoyment of the floor show caught the attention of the others and soon all of them were standing on the booth bench, laughing at Cas’s attempt to dance. When the song ended and Heather led Castiel back to the booth, their hands linked, Sam was surprised to see a smile on the angel’s face. That happened so rarely, he had forgotten what it looked like. “Cas, you got some moves,” Dean hollered, clapping him on the shoulder.   
“Never pegged you for a dancer,” Sam told him as he scooted around the bench to let the couple sit down. Cas didn’t answer; instead he merely shrugged and continued to smile.  
“He did good,” Heather grinned, bumping him with her hip. Cas actually blushed slightly at the comment and Sam wondered if maybe there wasn’t something brewing between the two. It would be sweet for Castiel to be able to find someone; someone who understood his quirks and could keep him sane during hunts. Sam felt the familiar pang of want when he thought of having something more but he quickly drowned it with a long swig of beer, turning his attention to the man on his right.  
Brody had been quiet most of the night, getting cozy with his bottle of Jack, which was more than half gone. “Hey, you doin’ okay, man,” Sam asked him. Brody looked at him with a sloppy grin but his eyes were stone cold serious.   
“Are you afraid of dying?” Sam blinked at the question, thrown out there so casually. Death was always looming on the back of his mind but he tried not to think about it too much. He debated giving Brody a fluff answer; depending on how drunk the musician really was, he might be able to get away with it, but one look into those eyes told Sam he was expecting something real. Sighing, Sam nodded.  
“Yeah. I, um, have experienced death a lot more than one man should, and it…terrifies me, actually.” He had never said those words out loud to another human being before, not even his brother, and it shocked him how true they were. “Why are you thinking about dying?” Brody shrugged and did a shot, offering one to Sam who waved it off.   
“Just, you know…we’re dealing with something weird and who knows what can happen.”   
“Brody, listen to me.” Sam leaned in and placed a hand on Brody’s forearm. “This is what we do, me and my brother. We hunt things and save people. We will do our damnedest to make sure nothing happens to you.”  
“Or Heather.”   
“Or Heather,” Sam agreed.  
“Although I think she has her own one-man rescue squad over there.” Brody laughed, downing one more shot as he nodded at Cas. “I like him. You think he’ll protect her?”  
“I do.”   
“Excellent.” Sam had more questions but was interrupted by the karaoke host calling out that it was time for Brody and The Hunters to take the stage. Brody slammed one more shot then jumped up, pushing Sam towards Heather. “That’s us! Let’s go, boys!”  
“What? What do you mean by ‘us?’”  
“I’m Brody,” he said patiently, pointing at his chest, “you, and you,” he pointed at Sam and Dean, “and you,” pointing at Castiel, “are The Hunters. No time to argue,” he said to Dean who had his hands up as if he could ward off Brody’s idea. “Follow me.” Sam didn’t think this would have worked had Heather and Rhonda hadn’t been cheering for the men to do as he asked. Worried about what Brody had in store for them, Sam brought up the rear of their impromptu group. When they got to the stage, Brody informed them that they would be performing “I Can’t Get Next To You” by The Temptations. “It’s Heather’s favorite song and we’re going to do this for her, okay? All right?” He looked each man in the eye and none of them could bring themselves to tell the insistent, drunk man no. Brody quickly told them the parts they would be singing and Sam felt like he might throw up. This was not his scene, all those strangers standing out there, watching him, expecting him to be great. Or maybe they were hoping he would make a fool of himself, which was more than likely what would happen.   
The house band started out with the cheering and applause and Brody started the show by busting in, yelling, “All right, hold it everybody, hold it…listen…” The piano started, followed by the rest of the band. Sam was sure this was going to be a disaster all the way up until the second Dean opened his mouth to start the song.  
“I…can turn the grey skies blue…” His brother sounded good, he thought, surprised.  
“I can make it rain, whenever I want it to.” Castiel didn’t sing his line; he spoke it then looked around and said very low, “That’s not really true…weather isn’t my job.” Brody sang his line over the talking, busting to the front of the group, pointing at Heather who was sitting on the back of the booth next to Rhonda. They were both grinning like loons.  
“I can build a castle from a single grain of sand…” Sam felt sick and dizzy as Dean sang his next line, knowing he was next.  
“I can make a ship sail, huh. on dry land.” Dean had really gotten into it, doing some little hip movements that sent the female portion of the audience into a frenzy. Sam looked back at the girls they had come with and saw they were enjoying this performance and he suddenly decided he would be damned if he was what ruined it.   
“But my life is incomplete and I’m so blue…” He dropped to his knees and belted out the lyrics, closing his eyes as he did so. He heard the crowd’s positive reaction and his eyes flew open, pointing straight back at Heather and Rhonda, causing them to fake swoon. “Cuz I-I-I-I…can’t get next to you…next to you…I just can’t get next to you…” Sam jumped to his feet and finished off his section. “I can fly like a bird in the sky…” His heart was pounding and the crowd was losing their minds and he realized he was glad they were doing this. Brody looked like he was having the time of his life, and even though he was pretty smashed, the guitarist was holding his own quite well.  
“Hey, and I can buy anything that money can buy…”  
“Oh, I can turn a river into a raging fire…” Dean and his hips swiveled to the front again, making Sam laugh. He’d never seen his brother like this before.   
“I can live forever, if I so desire.” Once again, Cas added his own comments of, “Well, that is true…” Now it was Brody’s turn to show off, shoving everyone out of his way and throwing his arms out like he was preaching the gospel truth.  
“Unimportant are all these things I can do, cuz I can’t get next to you, no matter what I do…” During the bridge they all did a good unison on the “chicka booms” and their attempts at a group dance wasn’t too shabby.   
Sam started off the next verse strong, feeling the music down in his toes. “I can turn back the hands of time, you better believe it’s true…”  
“I can make the seasons change just by waving my hand…” Dean had looked back at Rhonda when he sang that line and she stood up and flashed him, causing him to choke on the last two words. Brody was laughing at Heather rolling her eyes at her friend’s antics and barely got “I can change anything from old to new,” out. Cas spoke his line once again but Sam heard a tinge of melody coming through.  
“The thing I want to do the most, I’m unable to do…”   
It was Dean’s time to shine and he took it and made the most of the moment. Imitating his brother, he went to his knees and sang, “Unhappy am I with all these powers I possess, cuz girl, you’re the key to my happiness…” Brody joined him on the floor and the put their heads together as Brody trilled, “And I…oh, I…”  
Sam and Cas provided the chorus of “I can’t get next to you” while Dean took his performance to the next level, his voice coming out in a seductive growl. Sam swore he saw a couple girls faint.   
“Girl, you’re blowing my mind…cuz I can’t…can’t you see these tears I’m cryin’…I can’t get, uh…girl, it’s you that I need…can’t you see these tears i’m cryin’…I can’t get…” The song ended to thunderous applause and cheers and whistles. It was a new experience for Sam to be mobbed by people as he stepped off of the stage. So many girls just wanted to hug him and a few asked for his autograph. He turned them down with his puppy dog eyes, explaining he wasn’t anyone famous, just a friend of Brody’s.   
Sam noticed that Castiel stuck close to Brody while the musician was reveling in the attention; deciding that he was in good hands, Sam slithered his way out of the mob and back to the table. Heather and Rhonda both attacked him, throwing their arms around him. “Oh, my, God, you guys were amazing,” Heather squealed. “I didn’t know you could sing!”  
“Oh, I can’t,” Sam laughed, sitting down and grabbing his beer. His throat was parched after his time on stage. “That will be my one shot at stardom.” Heather sat down next to him while Rhonda ran off to find Dean and get in on the fan action.   
“Well, you were pretty cool up there.” He smiled his thanks then sobered.   
“So, I know we’re not supposed to talk shop tonight but…Brody seems worried about this going south and the worst case scenario happening. How are you feeling about it all?” Heather considered her answer, absently rubbing at her shirt, just under her necklace.   
“I’d be lying if I didn’t say that I’m scared. But it seems like you guys have a plan, am I right?”  
“We will, once Cas spills what he learned today.”  
“And this is what you guys do. You fight these…monsters…it’s your job?” Sam nodded. “And I’m going to assume that you’re pretty damn good if you’re still around.”  
“Yeah, we’re not bad.” Sam’s laugh was contagious and she chuckled.   
“So…no, I’m not worried. About myself but I am about Brody. Did he tell you he had an injury in the dream that carried over into real life?”  
“No, he didn’t mention that. What happened?” Heather was in the middle of explaining when Brody showed up at the table, Cas following closely behind him.   
“Brody, show Sam your hands,” Heather demanded. He sighed and rolled his eyes, but he did as she said, holding them out for the hunter to see. The scrapes still looked angry and raw. Sam’s lips tightened, his brows furrowed. He wasn’t sure what to make of this new development.  
“I can heal those, if you’d like,” Castiel said, coming around Brody’s left side. He looked down at his wounds then up at the angel and shook his head.   
“Thanks, man, but I’m good.”   
“Brody, let him fix you,” Heather pleaded, looking up at him from her seat. He gave her a heartbreakingly sweet smile before bending down and kissing the top of her head.  
“Babe, I’m good. Trust me.”


	17. Chapter 17

She was 99% sure that this was a dream. It had the same feel as all the other ones but the setting was completely different. She was inside the Georgia Dome instead of outside in a pit. She was wearing her pajamas, black and grey flannel pants and a black baby doll t-shirt, instead of a plain white robe. She was completely alone instead of surrounded by hundreds of other people. The Georgia Dome was dark and cold. Heather had never been in the arena when it was completely empty. Without the lights, the crew, the fans it felt gaping, lonely, and menacing. Shadows played in every corner, her bare feet slapped the concrete, causing a creepy echo. She automatically reached up for her feather but came up empty. She vaguely recalled taking it off before going to bed so she could join Brody in his dream.   
She was worried about him; he was acting strange. When she tried to push him, he either changed the subject or walked away without a word. When it came to their dreams, they had always approached them as a team but since the night before when the feather had blocked hers, she felt that Brody held it against her. She needed to find him, talk to him, get him to tell her what was going on with him.   
Heather walked the concourse, using her flashlight app on her phone to light her way. All the doors that led to the seating were closed and locked tight. She had tried the first few then gave up, deciding to walk around until she saw one that was open. Her heart pounded in expectation of something jumping out at her and her chest was beginning to hurt from the shallow breaths she was taking. “Brody,” she whispered. “Brody, where are you?” Her voice bounced off the walls and echoed back at her. She walked for what felt like hours but in reality was only a few minutes. She figured she had lapped the concourse twice when she heard the telltale sound of a lock clicking and a door opening.  
Running towards the sound, Heather found herself standing in front of an open luxury box. Taking a deep breath, she swung her phone around to see if anyone else was in the room but it was empty. Heart thumping, throat dry, she stepped into the box. The door slammed behind her with a loud thud. She jumped and screamed, dropping her phone on the floor, feeling foolish for letting the sound scare her. Determined not to be frightened, she marched up to the door and pulled. It didn’t budge. She pulled harder. It didn’t budge. She pounded on the door with her palms until they hurt but to no avail. Sighing, she turned around and picked up her phone, using the light to survey the area.  
The luxury box was one of the bigger ones, reserved for people who shelled out the big bucks to not have to mingle with the common folk. There was a kitchen set-up on the far right side with a mini-fridge, sink, and microwave. Tables to hold food and drink were scattered between the furniture. A large, comfy couch sat in the middle of the room, flanked by matching chairs; they faced a large picture window that looked out over the stage. Sliding her phone into her pocket, Heather walked over to the window (Why was there a window in a luxury box, she wondered fleetingly) and cupped her hands to her face, trying to peer out into the darkness. She couldn’t see anything and she was getting frustrated. She hit the window with her fist and as she did so, the stage lights came on with a loud pop. The light burned her eyes for a moment but as she adjusted, she realized the box was situated directly in the center of the arena and the stage was visible from every angle.   
It looked like Wicked Cherry would take the stage at any moment; the whole carnival set-up was lit, the colored spotlights were spinning, the screens at the back of the stage were showing the carnival backdrop. Heather stood in the box and scanned the stage, looking for any sign that Brody was down there. She didn’t see any movement and it was starting to freak her out.If Brody wasn’t here, why was she? Heather started to pace in front of the window, pulling out her phone. She wondered if she could text in dreams as her fingers flew over the keys. Just as she hit “send” the air was filled with the familiar buzzing sound she heard in every dream. She shoved her phone away, her heart hammering, as she turned back to the stage. The screens had changed, showing images of deserts and mountains and pits of fire.  
In the center stood the man. He was still the glowing black void with no real shape but Heather could feel his eyes burning into her. The buzzing was growing fainter and suddenly she heard a voice that she had never heard before but knew immediately that it belonged to Zekiah. “This is your destiny.” His voice boomed throughout the arena. Heather felt the power of it in her bones; her knees shook and she steadied herself by placing both hands against the glass. “Your destiny is unfolding before you. Come and claim your part in this story.”  
“What story,” Heather yelled back through the window. “What destiny? You’re crazy! Where’s Brody?”  
“The weak are always to afraid to see what path lies before them, even if it leads them to greatness.”   
“You think I’m weak,” she asked, her blood pressure skyrocketing. “You think I’m WEAK? Where is Brody? What have you done with him?”  
“I have led him down his path of greatness and he accepted it with open arms.” Zekiah’s voice was growing heavier and louder; the window that Heather was standing at was beginning to tremble.  
“WHERE IS HE?” Heather screamed, pounding on the glass.   
“You will accept your destiny,” Zekiah thundered.  
“I’ll accept nothing until you show me Brody!” The man seemed to take that as a form of agreement. The glowing void seemed to fade and pulse as the colored lights swirled around him.  
“Behold, the doorway to your glorious destiny opened and waiting for you to pass through…” The ferris wheel that dropped down from the ceiling during “Spin Around” started to lower. Heather watched it, terror dawning as she realized that Brody was hanging from the metal bars, his arms and legs bound so he was spread eagle. He was still alive and his eyes seem to widen when he saw Heather. Even over the buzzing of Zekiah’s voice, she heard him say, “No…no, not like this.”  
“BRODY! BRODY!” Heather was slamming her fists agains the glass so hard that it started to crack. “LEAVE HIM ALONE!”  
“He has surrendered to his destiny, all for the greatest good. Witness…the beginning…” Zekiah turned in a flurry, raising his arms in the air. A blinding light emanated from him and Heather heard Brody’s scream mingling with hers. She felt the glass underneath her pounding hands shatter, she felt the sting of being cut…  
And then she was awake.


	18. Chapter 18

Sam had fallen asleep quickly, enjoying having the king size bed, not to mention the entire suite, to himself. His last thought before he fell asleep was that he was going to have to send Rhonda a thank you note for keeping his brother so occupied. His bliss only lasted an hour; he was awakened by pounding and screaming outside his door. Conditioned to be awake and ready for anything, he was out of bed with a gun in his hand within seconds. He cracked the door to find a hysterical Heather in the hall. “Shit, Heather, what’s wrong?” He pulled her inside, shoving the gun into the waistband of his pajama pants.   
“It’s Brody…it’s…he’s…I think he’s…oh, God, Sam, we have to go!” She was practically hyperventilating and tugging on his arm with a grip of steel.   
“Heather, take a breath and tell me what’s going on.”   
“There’s no time, no time. We have to go!” Sam could tell she was in shock and he needed to get her calm down so he could figure out exactly what had happened.   
“Okay, okay,” he said in his softest voice, taking a step back. She stayed locked on his arm and he had to peel her hand off of him. That was when Sam saw the blood. It was sticky on his forearm where Heather’s hand had just been. He grabbed her hands in his to examine them. There were little cuts all over her palms, bleeding freely. “Jesus, Heather, what the hell happened?”  
“The window broke,” she said dismissively, pulling her hands out of his grip. “It doesn’t matter, we have to go!” Sam was worried now. He shoved his feet into his boots and grabbed his jacket and phone, following Heather out of the room. He marched down the hall to Rhonda’s room and pounded hard on the door with his fist.  
“Dean! Dean, we gotta go! NOW!” He heard his brother cussing on the other side of the door and in seconds, his angry green eyes were staring at him through the crack in the door.  
“Dude, what the hell?”  
“Heather’s hurt and I think Brody…something’s happened and it’s bad, Dean. We gotta go!” Sam got a curt nod in response before the door shut. He heard him explaining to Rhonda that duty called. Sam shook his head, realizing that he was letting her think he was actually an FBI agent.  
“Where are we going,” Dean asked as he exited the room. Sam looked at Heather.  
“The Dome,” she said, already running to the elevator. During the car ride, she filled them in on what had happened. How she had gone to bed alone because Brody wanted to film his latest video. “He always does it in bed but this time, he stayed in the living room. He insisted I go to bed, that he would be right behind me.” She started to cry and took a deep breath to regain control. “I was so tired that I fell asleep almost immediately. I took the feather off,” she whispered.  
“What?” Sam turned around in his seat to face her.  
“The feather that Castiel gave me, I took it off.” Her hand reached for it and Sam wondered if she was wearing it now or had ran out of her suite without it. “The night before I didn’t dream with it on but Brody did. Tonight I decided he shouldn’t dream alone so I took it off. I saw him…oh, God…I saw Zekiah…he was going to kill Brody. We have to hurry!” Dean drove as fast as he could and when he got to the Dome, he sped around the parking lot until he found what he was looking for: a security guard sleeping in his truck. He parked the car parallel to the truck and jumped out, pounding on the guard’s window.   
“FBI,” Dean shouted, slapping his badge against the glass. “I need access to this building now!” The guard blinked sleepily at him before his brain engaged and he realized what Dean was telling him. Without question, the guy jumped out of the truck and ran to a pair of heavy, metal doors, yanking his keys out of his pocket. Sam and Heather got out of the Impala and followed at a dead run. Sam’s first instinct was to make Heather stay in the car but one look at her face and knew it would be a battle he couldn’t win.   
The security guard, a short, balding man in his 50’s, trembled as he tried to unlock the doors. Sam could feel Heather quivering beside him and knew it was taking all of her power not to yank the keys out of his hand and do it herself. Once he got it, he looked at the group and said with a shaky voice, “It’s dark as Hades in there. You wanna wait until I get the alarm shut off and the lights on?”  
“No time,” Heather said, turning her phone on flashlight mode and plunging in past all of them. “Get to the stage,” she hollered behind her as Sam and Dean both followed. Luckily, Dean always carried a flashlight in his coat pocket so he was able to light their way while trying to keep up with Heather. Sam heard the alarm start to wail as soon as they breached the doorway; it seemed to pulse with his pounding heart as he ran behind Dean and Heather. Just as they reached the backstage area, the wailing stopped.   
It was treacherous being backstage without full lights so the group had to slow down, picking over cables and wires and pallets carefully so they didn’t trip. When they reached the stage itself, Heather ran over to the center where the ferris wheel was hanging down, instead of stored up above as it should have been. “Brody? Brody, are you here,” she called, flashing her phone around. Sam ran up behind her just as the light from her phone illuminated a bare foot. He heard Heather gasp as the glow moved upwards, revealing an ankle just under a rolled-up denim cuff. “No, no no no,” she whispered, stepping forward and stretching out her hand. Just as her fingers made contact, the stage lights snapped on.


	19. Chapter 19

Heather was momentarily blinded when the spotlights came on and she pulled her hand away to cover her eyes. When her eyes had adjusted, she slowly took in the scene in front of her. Brody, strapped to the ferris wheel, motionless, limp, blood dripping from a chest wound, puddling below him on the stage. But it was his eyes, or lack thereof, that pulled the scream out of her.   
Where his beautiful hazel eyes had once been were now empty sockets, the flesh scorched a horrible crimson-black color.   
The scream quickly dissolved into choking sobs as Heather flung herself at Brody, her phone clattering to the floor as she clutched at his legs. She couldn’t believe what she was seeing; this couldn’t be real. Her best friend, her first true love, he couldn’t be gone. “This is just a dream,” she cried against his body. “It’s just a dream.” She didn’t know how long she stood there, her arms wrapped around his knees. She vaguely heard Dean order the security guard to call 911. She heard Sam telling his brother angrily that they shouldn’t have put off talking about the case. She heard the sirens wailing in the distance, quickly growing louder as they approached the arena. She heard the clatter of emergency workers running onto the stage. She heard Sam’s soft voice in her ear, telling her she needed to let go.   
How was she supposed to let go?   
She shook her head and hugged Brody tighter.  
She heard Sam tell her that the people who could help him were there but she needed to let go. Her heart hurt more than she ever thought possible as she released her grip. As she did so, she felt Sam’s hands on her shoulders. She turned into him, letting herself collapse against his chest. He embraced her tightly and pulled her away from the scene so the EMT’s could get in there. She let him lead her on shaky legs to the edge of the stage where they would be out of the way. Keeping one arm firmly around her shoulder, he pulled her into him. Grateful for something solid to lean against, she wrapped her arms around his waist. She felt shaky, dizzy, cold.  
Heather closed her eyes and tried to wrap her brain around what had happened. Was Brody truly gone? If so, how could she even be expected to go on? Tears she didn’t even know she had left began to fall and Sam pulled her in a little tighter. She was grateful for him being there but she wished desperately that it was Castiel. Where was he, she suddenly wondered. Were they no longer connected because she didn’t have the feather on?  “Heather…” She thought she imagined his voice but when she opened her eyes, he was standing in front of her. His face was a mask of sadness and sympathy and it made everything all too real.   
“Cas,” she whispered, her voice hitching. She released her hold on Sam and held her hands out to him, teetering a little. Both men reached out for her but the angel grabbed her hands and steadied her.  
“You got her, man,” Sam asked, his hand on her elbow. Castiel nodded sharply then whispered something to the hunter. Sam widened his eyes at Cas, started to speak, then closed his mouth, flattening his lips into a thin line. He didn’t look happy about whatever Castiel had told him, she though watched as he walked over to stand by his brother. Sam moved in close to Dean and told him something that had the older brother looking over as Cas and mouthing, “What the hell?” His green eyes narrowed in anger at the message. Heather wished she could feel angry instead of the numbing pain that wracked her body right then. She moved her eyes off of Dean and, despite the protesting in her heart, they trailed up to where Brody was still hanging on the ferris wheel.   
“Heather, don’t,” Cas told her, lightly turning her head, warm fingers on her chin. Her first reaction was to fight him, keep her eyes on Brody, but he was persistent. “Look at me. Not up there. Brody isn’t there any longer.” His words broke her heart all over again. Tears once again stung her eyes as she did as Cas asked.  
“Can you...can you save him?”   
“No.”   
“Please?” Castiel shook his head, his blue eyes never leaving hers. “Please, Cas? Please?” She grabbed onto the lapels of his trench coat tightly, tears streaming down her cheeks, dripping off of her lips and chin. She didn’t even notice. “Please!”  
“I can’t. There’s no soul there anymore to save.”  
“Noooo…” the word devolved into a whimper. Heather felt like she might be sick and she was suddenly finding it difficult to breathe. She began gasping for air and choking on tears, all the while begging the angel to fix her friend. Instead of agreeing to what she wanted, Castiel bent his head down and kissed her forehead, saying, “You need to rest.”   
Those were the last words she heard as the world spun and went black.


	20. Chapter 20

The angel sat in a chair next to the bed Heather was sleeping in. He was leaning forward, elbows on knees, hands clasped. His eyes never left her. He had been watching her for two hours, making sure her sleep was deep and undisturbed by dreams. He was hurting for her; he felt how badly her heart had been broken and he wished with everything he had that he could help her put it back together. He understood, though, the process of grief that she would have to go through. All he could truly offer was a hand to hold through that time and pray that it would be enough.   
The cell phone he kept in his inside suit jacket pocket started to vibrate, startling him slightly. Pulling it out, he saw it was Dean Winchester calling. “Dean,” he said by way of greeting.  
“Cas, where are you? Where’s Heather?”  
“She’s sleeping. I took her back to Brody’s hotel room.”  
“We’ll be there in twenty.” Cas pushed the end button and slid the phone back into the pocket. He brushed Heather’s hair away from her face one last time before going into the sitting room, closing the bedroom door behind him. He knew she wouldn’t wake up until he deemed her ready but he still didn’t want anything he was about to discuss with Sam and Dean to filter in. She wasn’t ready to hear everything just yet.  
He was waiting with the door open when the brothers arrived, both seething with anger and grief. And they weren’t alone. An Atlanta city police officer was with them, looking at Castiel with stern, judging eyes.   
”Cas, this is Officer Parker,” Sam said, walking into the suite.  
“You’re Cas,” Parker asked in a low, slow drawl before the door was even closed. “You’re the one that removed a witness from the crime scene without permission?” The angel eyed the man; he was tall and fit with a thick neck and short, dark hair. small, dark eyes, and thin lips. His uniform stretched taut over his muscles. It was obvious he spent all of his free time in the gym.  
“Your witness was unconscious. She wouldn’t have done you any good.” He stared the officer down, one hand on the still-open door until the man finally moved into the room, allowing Cas to shut the door.   
“We had EMT’s on the scene. They could have helped her.”  
“No. They couldn’t have.” Another stare down ensued. It was clear the cop was unused to anyone standing up to his authority and a slow flush began to crawl up his neck and stain his cheeks.  
“I’ll need to talk to her,” he declared, an obvious challenge in his voice. “Now.” Castiel tilted his head and hardened his eyes. The angel didn’t even blink before touching Parker’s forehead with his index finger. There was the smallest flash of white light and the man’s eyes shook in his sockets before he slumped bonelessly. He would have hit the floor but Castiel was ready and caught him, sliding his arms under the big man’s armpits.   
“Cas, what did you do…” He completely ignored Sam’s question and caught Dean’s eye.  
“Dean, can you help me, please?” The hunter obeyed, grabbing the officer’s feet. Together, while Sam looked on worriedly, they carried him to the table and sat him upright in a chair. Castiel got a bottle of water from the mini-fridge, twisted the cap off, drank about a quarter of it, then set it in front of Parker. He reached into the man’s shirt pocket, pulled out his notebook and pen and sat them in front of them.  
The policeman’s eyes had stopped quivering but now they were glassy and unfocused. The angel sat down in the chair next to him and looked him in the eyes. “Officer Parker, you talked to Heather Knight. She didn’t have any worthwhile information for you on this case. The one piece of evidence you gleaned was that she told you Brody had been having trouble sleeping and sometimes took a cab to the arena. She thinks he bribed the security guard to let him in and he would sit on the stage and play his guitar. Your accusing tone and rough edges upset her and she had to leave the room. You feel bad for the girl, her loss is devastating. You’re done with your questions and ready to leave.”   
The brothers looked on in amazement as the cop picked up the pen and wrote notes of what he had just been told, still staring straight ahead with a vacant gaze.. When he was done, the angel touched his forehead again. This time there was no light or reaction. Parker’s eyes just seemed to focus sharply, landing on his notes. “Well, it looks like I got all I came for,” Parker said, his voice much softer than it had started out. He looked at Castiel, still sitting next to him then up and Sam and Dean, who were standing over him, both of them with their arms crossed over their chests and stern looks on their faces. A flicker of guilt passed quickly over his features as he stood, pocketing his notebook. He grabbed the bottle of water without looking at it. “Please extend my condolences to Ms. Knight. You gentlemen have my card if you think of anything else.” He nodded his head sharply and showed himself out the door. Everyone was silent for a minute before Dean started laughing.  
“Holy shit, Cas, you totally just Obi-Wan’ed that guy,” he exclaimed, his eyes wide.   
“I have to admit, that was pretty cool,” Sam smiled. Cas looked pretty proud of himself for a brief moment before he sobered and stared at Sam.  
“Did you get what we needed,” he asked. Sam nodded, his smile disappearing while running a hand through his hair. He dropped onto the loveseat, exhausted. He drew a small vial out of his coat pocket. The angel walked over and took it from him, sliding it into his own pocket.   
“Yeah. Why the hell do you need Brody’s blood?”  
“It will help us to end Zekiah.” Cas remained standing as Dean sat next to his brother, dropping his head into his hands.   
“I fucking hope it does,” Dean growled. “What he did to that poor kid…”  
“I promised him we would save him,” Sam said, his voice thick with emotion.   
“Brody knew he wasn’t getting out of this alive,” Cas said evenly. “Please don’t feel guilty.” Sam and Dean both snapped their heads up to stare at him. He realized he had said too much already and mentally winced. “I think I hear Heather stirring. I’ll be right back and we can all discuss this.” He popped from the living room to the bedroom to prevent the Winchesters from stopping him.   
Castiel sat and watched Heather silently for a few moments before waking her with a soft touch to her cheek. Her eyes fluttered open and landed on Cas. Her eyes immediately welled with tears and she reached out, grabbing his hand. “Is it true,” she whispered, “Is Brody really gone?”  
“I’m afraid so. I’m so sorry, Heather.” He got out of the chair and sat next to her on the bed. She scooted herself over and lay her head on his lap, her left arm slung across his waist. He rested one hand on her shoulder, the other on her head. He concentrated on sending her peaceful vibes, trying to counteract the worst of her grief. It seemed to work; she only cried a little bit. When she sighed and sat up, he couldn’t help but notice that her hair was a crazy mess, sticking out in different directions, her eyes red and puffy, face splotchy. She reached up with a hand and swiped at straggling tears. Castiel took that hand in his and brought it up to his lips. The kiss he gave her knuckles was soft, swift, and sweet. “I will be here to help you through this,” he told her, peering into her eyes. “So will Sam and Dean. They’re outside. We need to talk about what’s happened and what’s going to happen. Do you feel up for that?”  
“Um...I guess so.” She bit her bottom lip as her eyes welled again. She blinked furiously and started at the ceiling. “Can I...can I take a shower first?”  
“Of course.” Cas stood and helped her out of bed before releasing her hand. “We’ll be right outside if you need us.”  
“Thank you,” she said, her voice catching. She took a couple of steps towards the bathroom before stopping, pivoting, and throwing her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly. Castiel hesitated a second before sliding his arms around her and returning the embrace. She didn’t look at him when she let go of him and he was glad for that. She didn’t need to see the guilt spilling from his eyes.


	21. Chapter 21

Heather didn’t look Castiel in the eye when she broke the hug because she was afraid he would read her mind, know what she was about to do.   
While laying on the bed, she caught sight of her pile of clothes from the night before sitting on a chair. More specifically, the jeans she had been wearing when Crowley handed her his business card. When Castiel left the bedroom, she rushed over and dug her hand into the pocket, fishing out the card. She swiped her phone from the bedside table and ran into the bathroom, locking the door behind her. Ignoring the huge volume of texts and missed calls, her trembling fingers punched the numbers and she prayed he would answer.   
“Heather?” His warm, accented voice filled her ear and she breathed a sigh of relief. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”  
“I need to...um...I need to make a deal.” She pushed the words out on one breath, making them sound like one long word. There was silence and she was afraid she’d lost him. “Crowley?”  
“Hello, darling.” His greeting tickled her ear and she swiveled around, finding the king standing directly behind her, a sad smile on his handsome face. Heather’s heart dropped the second she saw his countenance.   
“Please don’t look at me like that.”  
“I know what you want. But I can’t, in all good faith, make this deal.”  
“But…” She bit her bottom lip to keep from whining. Crowley took her hands in his and squeezed lightly. She winced at the pain from the multitude of cuts, only now remembering about them.   
“I know you’re hurting and if you were anyone else, I would take advantage of your vulnerability and make this deal in a heartbeat.”  
“But…” She voiced the word she heard hanging in the air.   
“But I like you. And I can’t make my end hold up.” The King of Hell sighed as if he truly was disappointed in the situation. “Brody’s soul is out of my reach and were I to bring him back, he wouldn’t be the same. Not to mention all the questions that would be raised as to how, after what had happened to him, he was up and running about again.” Heather considered his words and knew in her heart that he was right. That didn’t make her feel any better and to her mortification, she began to sob in front of the most powerful man she knew.   
Softly, Crowley gathered her into him, sliding his arms around her and holding her as she cried. She clutched the lapels of his jacket and buried her face into his black dress shirt that smelled like musk and whiskey. When she had exhausted herself, she took a deep, steadying breath and pulled her face away from his chest. She patted the spot that was now soaked with her tears. “I”m sorry,” Heather whispered, “I got you all wet.”  
“It’s all right,” Crowley assured her, rubbing the small of her back lightly. “Feeling better?”  
“Sure.”  
“Good. Because I have to tell you...you look a right mess.” She laughed at his brutal candor.  
“I feel a right mess,” she answered, causing him to return the laugh. He released his hold on her and she took a step back, leaning against the counter. “I’m sorry for breaking down but...thank you. Thank you for your honesty and thank you for letting me cry all over you.” He answered her by smiling warmly and folding both of his hands over his heart. Then he reached out and took her hands in his, palms up. He looked at the injuries briefly then brought them up to his lips, kissing each of her palms gently in turn. When he released her, Heather was amazed to see all of the cuts had disappeared. She looked up at him, her eyes wide. “You didn’t have to do that,” she told him.  
“You’re in enough mental agony,” he told her, sliding his own hands into his jacket pockets. “There’s no reason for you to suffer physically as well.”  
Heather leaned forward and kissed his cheek. By the time she pulled away, he was gone. Sighing, she leaned back against the bathroom counter and decided that maybe she should take a shower. If the King of Hell thought she looked like hell...  
She spent the first twenty minutes of her shower standing, unmoving, under the spray, reliving everything that happened. She cried a little more, surprised that she even had tears left. The next fifteen minutes she actually washed her hair and body, thinking of things she needed to do.   
Had his parents been contacted? What about the rest of the band? The crew? The fans? They needed to know the tour would be cancelled. And shouldn’t she be needing to talk to the police? By the time she rinsed the conditioner out of her hair, the water had turned cold and her body was covered in goose bumps. Just as she turned the water off, she heard a rustling noise and Castiel calling her name uncertainly. Worried something else had happened, Heather pulled the shower curtain back and popped her head out.   
The angel was standing in the middle of the bathroom, hands in his coat pockets, his eyes averted. “Cas? What’s wrong?”  
“You’ve been in here a while, are you okay?” He continued to look up at the ceiling and it made Heather actually smile a little.   
“Yes, I’m okay. Considering. Can you please hand me that towel?” He handed her a fluffy yellow towel from the countertop, still not looking at her. How was it possible that in the midst of this tragedy, he made her heart skip a beat with his chivalry? “Thanks. Hold on, okay?” She waited until he nodded before she shut the curtain again. She dried off quickly then wrapped the towel around her and stepped out. He was standing in the exact same place, his eyes fixed on a water spot on the ceiling. “You can look at me now.” He did but it was only eye contact. Heather laughed softly. “What’s going on, Cas?”  
“We have a plan,” he announced without preamble. “But it involves putting you in danger.”  
“Okay.” She didn’t know if it was the shock of her best friend’s death but the thought of putting herself in a risky situation didn’t frighten her. The angel looked at her quizzically and took a couple of steps towards her.   
“You’re not worried.” It wasn’t a question but she shook her head anyway.   
“Nope. You are, though.” This time he moved until he was inches away from her. Her breath caught as his hand reached out, resting on the side of her face, his palm cradling her jaw. His thumb caressed her cheek gently and she shut her eyes, sighing and leaning into his touch.   
“I...don’t want you to get hurt.”   
“Nothing can ever hurt me more than what happened tonight,” she answered, opening her eyes. “Whatever you guys have in mind, count me in.” Heather covered his hand with hers and it was his turn to smile. Once again, she felt the familiar longing to cover his lips with hers but she tamped it down. This was not the time, she told herself sternly.  
“Meet us outside when you’re ready,” Castiel said. In a blink he was gone, leaving Heather standing there with her hand in the air. She curled her fingers in towards her newly healed palm and took a deep breath. This was good, this having a plan. If she could focus all of her energy on getting back at the bastard that took Brody from her, she wouldn’t have time for things like sobbing in bathrooms.   
She quickly combed her hair, braided it loosely down her back, and got dressed, throwing on a pair of black leggings with thick grey leg warmers over her calves, a black tank top and one of Brody’s big, roomy black, red, and white flannel shirts. It smelled like him and she wrapped it around her body. The last thing she grabbed was the feather, slinging the chain around her neck as she padded out into the sitting area. Sam immediately jumped up from the loveseat to wrap her in a tight embrace. “Heather, I’m so sorry. I’m sorry we couldn’t save him.” She could hear the tears in his voice and it brought her own to the surface again.   
“Sam, it’s not your fault,” she told him, hugging his midsection. He kissed the top of her head before letting her go. Dean came up from behind her, slinging a strong arm around her shoulders and squeezing. She leaned into his chest and pressed a hand to his forearm.  
“We’re gonna get this son of a bitch,” he promised fiercely, his breath warm on her ear. She nodded fiercely in agreement.   
“Damn right we are.” She wallowed in Dean’s hug for a few seconds more. When they broke apart, she walked over to where Cas was standing by the dining table. “Do I have time to make a few phone calls before we get down to business?”  
“Yes,” he answered, searching her eyes. “Would you like to be left alone?”  
“No,” she shook her head. “I could actually use the support if you don’t mind staying.” The angel inclined his head in acquiescence, sitting down at the table after she did. “Should I call the police first? Surely they need to talk to me, get a statement, right?”  
“The police have been taken care of. They have what they need.” Cas didn’t quite meet her eyes while he spoke so she looked over at Sam and Dean, who were sitting on the loveseat, looking quite engrossed with the floor. Making a mental note to get the story from them later, she pulled out her phone and dialed Haley first.  
There was more crying on both ends of the phone while they spoke; Cas placed a hand on Heather’s shoulder, which helped calm her. Haley told her that Brody’s parents had been notified, as well as the rest of the band and crew. She had crafted a statement that had gone out to social media about thirty minutes beforehand. “The show that was supposed to take place tomorrow...I have an idea,” Heather said. “I’m going to assume that the arena will still be considered a crime scene but do you think we could set something up outside in the parking lot, honor all the tickets, and have a memorial show for Brody?”  
“Hmm...I like that,” Haley answered. “Let me work through the logistics and I’ll get back to you.” After hanging up with her manager, Heather shot off texts to Rhonda, Shawn, and some crew members. Then she called Brody’s parents. It was hard talking to them, possibly the hardest thing she’d ever done, but Castiel was right there and helped her contain the worst of her emotions. The last call she made was to her mother and that ended up being the most emotional. Her mother considered Brody one of her own children and to know how torn up her daughter was over his loss made it even worse. She felt drained by the time she hit end and turned to face the angel.   
“Are you feeling up to this,” he asked, his voice colored with concern. She nodded, wiping away tears.  
“I am. I want to get this over with.” She dragged the chair she had been sitting in towards the loveseat so she could be closer to Sam and Dean. Castiel preferred to stand but he chose to be closer to Heather. Her heart, broken as it was, still soared a little at his nearness. Sam, who was sitting nearer to her, reached out and touched her arm lightly.  
“Hey, how are your hands?” Her heart tripped at the question. She curled her fingers towards her palms to hide them and skirted his gaze.  
“They’re all right,” she mumbled, wishing she didn’t sound guilty.   
“What’s wrong with your hands,” Cas asked brusquely. She shook her head and refused to meet his intense eyes.  
“Nothing.”  
“Nothing?” Sam sounded incredulous. “They were all cut up from the glass in your dream. They looked pretty bad.”  
“Really, they’re okay. Nothing to fret over.” She pulled them into the sleeves of the flannel shirt but that didn’t stop the angel. He grabbed them with a strength that frightened her. When he saw the pristine skin, he gave her a questioning glare. Sam was also looking confused.  
“Heather…” Castiel prodded, raising an eyebrow. She yanked her hands away from Cas and sighed loudly.  
“Fine, fine. You…” She pointed at Sam with a scowl marring her face, “are a nosey Nelly.” Dean laughed loudly but was quickly silenced by a dirty look from his brother. “Crowley healed them.” Heather sat quietly while a maelstrom erupted around her. All three men were yelling at her and while they were using different words, their sentiment was the same. When had he been here? What had she been thinking? Was she fucking insane? She waited until they were done attacking her before she stood up and addressed their concerns.  
“I called him after you left me to take a shower, Castiel,” she said, braving the angry look on the angel’s face. “As for what I was thinking? I was thinking-” she had to pause when her voice cracked on a fresh wave of threatening tears. She took a deep breath and blinked furiously to hold them at bay. “I was thinking that I could get Brody back. And if that makes me fucking insane,” she looked at Dean when she repeated his phrase, “then, yes. I’m fucking insane.”   
“Making a deal with Crowley is not the way to handle this,” Castiel declared. “It’s a waste of a perfectly good soul.”  
“Well, he didn’t make a deal,” she shouted, turning back to the angel. “He wouldn’t make a deal! So I still…” Her tears betrayed her, rolling down her cheeks. She took a breath and covered her face with her hands, trying to regain control. That was when she felt Castiel’s arms go around her. Even though she was annoyed with him for yelling at her, she still craved his comfort, his touch, his nearness. She allowed herself to fall into him, laying her head on his chest. “I still have my soul because he wouldn’t make a deal with me,” she mumbled into his coat.   
“It’s for the best,” he told her softly, resting his cheek on the top of her head. And even though she couldn’t see his wings, she felt them embracing her just as much as she could feel his arms. “We need you, Heather. We need you to help us defeat Zekiah and...we...I need you, okay?” She still didn’t understand how her heart could be so broken, so shattered, and still, when Castiel said those words, it soared.   
Heather looked up at him and those eyes, those blue eyes as deep as the ocean, were staring into hers with so much tenderness that a small sigh escaped her lips. He smiled at her but she found she couldn’t return it. “I’m sorry,” she breathed. “I’m sorry for upsetting you...all of you,” she added, swiveling her head so she could see Dean and Sam. They both smiled at her and nodded, accepting her apology. She could tell that Dean wanted to come and join the hug but Sam held him back and she was grateful for that. She wanted as much alone time in Castiel’s embrace as she could get.   
All too soon, Cas stepped back from her, clearing his throat. “I’ll have to thank Crowley the next time I see him for being so honest.” Heather chuckled as she retook her seat. The hunters followed suit but Cas remained standing. He looked at her questioningly and she nodded, knowing he was asking if she was ready to dive back into the horror story that was now her life. “All right. I need to preface our plan of action with some backstory. This might be a little hard for you to swallow but trust me, this is all true.”


	22. Chapter 22

Even though she said she was ready, Castiel still checked Heather’s mental state before starting his story. He was impressed that she was holding herself together so well, considering the trauma she had been through in the last couple of hours. He knew, however, that this would be hard to hear, no matter what state she was in so he might as well lay it all on the line. “Yesterday I found an angel named Gideon who was willing to show me Zekiah’s story and the origin of this prophecy.”  
“Show you,” Sam asked.  
“Yes. We went back to that time as observers.”  
“That’s why you were so wiped when you came back.” Cas nodded at Dean’s statement.  
“Yes, it was a very arduous journey but I learned a lot.” He looked at Heather with regret in his blue eyes. “I was hoping to save Brody with what I learned but…” She reached her hand for his and he accepted it. Her skin was warm on his and it surprised him when he realized she had the ability to calm him as he did her. He could tell she didn’t blame him for the loss of her friend so he swallowed any guilt that was bubbling to the surface and pressed on.   
“This was just after Nehemiah was banished and Zekiah’s grace was twisted. He formed a plan that would require a pliant angel to do his bidding and be open to being the vessel to bring his favorite back. He zeroed in on a guardian angel named Juliette. She was a low-level angel and her only charge was a young boy named Frederick who lived on a small farm in what it now known as Scotland. Juliette loved Frederick like a mother would and spent almost all of her time looking over him, protecting him.” Castiel squeezed Heather’s hand once before letting go. He couldn’t stand still while he delivered this story and he began to pace the room, hands in his coat pockets.  
“One day, Zekiah appeared, and with no warning, slaughtered the young boy in a horrific manner. He showed him his true visage, which of course, burned out his eyes. As an added insult, he ripped his heart out of his body. Juliette just happened to not be there when it happened. When she returned to her post and saw the slaughter, she was distraught. Zekiah came to her side and offered her a deal: he could restore Frederick to her if she would be the vessel for his resurrection. She agreed without batting an eye.”  
The memory of what he witnessed was still fresh and Castiel took a deep breath so he could continue. He stopped his pacing and stood behind Heather’s chair. She started to turn around so she could see him but he stopped her by placing his hands firmly on her shoulders. “Juliette allowed Zekiah to go through with the ceremony of impregnating her. He told her that through her sacrifice, Frederick would live again.”  
“Impregnated her?” Heather’s voice was quiet when she broke in. “How was the ceremony done? Like...did she have sex with Zekiah?” She flicked her eyes to the brothers, expecting teasing from them, but they looked just as intrigued in the answer as she did. Castiel shook his head, blushing slightly.   
“Zekiah was the most powerful angel in the garrison. All he had to do was chant a few words, snap his fingers, and…” He waved his hand in the air.  
“Boom, pregnant,” Dean asked. Heather smiled at the wording as Sam chortled.   
“Pretty much,” the angel agreed, not getting the reference. “So, for weeks afterwards,” he continued, “Juliette had horrible visions of bloodshed and fire and death. She didn’t understand what was happening and was terrified that she was doing something that would interfere with Frederick’s return. She went to another angel, Asha, and asked her for help.   
“Asha was the one who told her that it was Nehemiah, not little Frederick, who she would be bringing back into the world. The visions Juliette had been having came from Nehemiah and his plan of making the human race suffer once he was reinstated into Heaven. Juliette was devastated. She would never get Frederick back and she would be responsible for the desolation of the human race. She decided then and there that she wouldn’t let it happen. She got her hands on an angel blade and went in search of Zekiah. When she found him, she didn’t even bother with words. She simply stabbed herself in the stomach, effectively killing her and the unborn Nehemiah inside her. She let Zekiah watch as his plans died in front of him.” Castiel took a moment to let his words sink in. Her could feel the horror rolling off of not only Heather but Sam and Dean. He was only glad that they had not witnessed it first hand like he had the day before. It was the image that had plagued his thoughts ever since.   
“That was when Zekiah truly lost his mind. He was not ready to admit that Nehemiah would never be coming home. He swore that Juliette would pay for her insolence and betrayal. He promised to follow her from life to life and one day, she would give in and be Nehemiah’s vessel.” Castiel felt the understanding in Heather before he saw it in Dean and Sam’s eyes. She stiffened, gasped quietly, then turned around in her chair as Castiel loosened his grip on her.   
“Are you saying that...I’m...Juliette?”  
“Yes.” Her green eyes were wide and full of confusion and fear.   
“Oh! I get it now!” Dean snapped his fingers then pointed at Heather. “That’s why you can see his wings! You used to be an angel!”   
“Yes,” Cas said without looking over at the hunter. Heather was still working everything out in her mind.   
“Brody...he was Frederick?” Castiel nodded. “He was just a pawn, is that what you’re telling me?” Her anger was rising to the surface and the angel was glad to see it. Anger would motivate her far more than sadness. Heather curled her hands into fists but didn’t say anything.   
“What happened to Zekiah after Juliette killed herself,” Sam asked.   
“God appointed Raphael to take care of the problem,” the angel told him. “Raphael bound Zekiah with a brass chain and took him to a random area on Earth. He left him there alone. But Zekiah is wily and smart and it didn’t take him long to learn how to utilize dreams to get what he wanted. Generation after generation, Juliette and Frederick’s reincarnated souls were drawn to where Zekiah was bound. Over and over again, the pair died tragically. Raphael was always there to talk Juliette’s soul into self-termination so that Nehemiah wouldn’t be reborn.”  
“But now Raphael is gone,” Heather whispered, looking deeply into Cas’s eyes. The guilt he had tried to shove deep inside was coming to the surface again. He knew she wasn’t blaming him but she should. Given time, she would.  
“Yes. It’s now my duty to protect you.”  
“Will you talk me into...self-termination? Was that your dangerous plan?”  
“No!” Castiel was surprised by how fierce his voice was. “I won’t let anything hurt you, Heather. We can fight Zekiah. Our plan does not include anyone else dying.”  
“Except the dickbag angel,” Dean threw in. It did Cas’s heart good when Heather laughed loudly. Dean gave her a bright smile and a backwards nod.   
“All right then...give it to me,” she declared, standing up and bouncing on the balls of her feet. She turned and stared at Castiel. “What’s the plan?”


	23. Chapter 23

When she asked for the plan, Heather wasn’t prepared for the question Castiel asked right off the bat. “Is it true that the real reason you and Brody broke up was because you can’t have children?”   
“What...I…” The pain that slammed into her was one she was used to feeling but coming from him, it felt as fresh as the day she found out she would never be a mother.   
“Cas, what the hell kind of question is that?” Sam was visibly shocked by the blatancy of the inquiry. He walked over and put a protective arm around Heather as he glared at the angel. Dean also looked appalled and embarrassed. Castiel sighed and rolled his eyes to the ceiling.  
“I’m sorry, too brusque again?”   
“Um, yeah,” Heather answered, leaning into Sam. Her heart was pounding and her face was hot. She clutched her feather in order to calm down. How could this man make her feel so safe one minute and so infuriated the next?  
“I’m sorry, but this is important. I need to know the answer.”   
“Fine, it’s true,” she bit out angrily. Sam pulled her in to him a little tighter as Castiel walked over to stand before her. Heather glared at him, tears starting to pool in her eyes. She blinked rapidly to get them to disappear but one betrayed her and snuck down her cheek. The angel softly used his thumb to wipe it away. “Why does this make a difference,” she asked, the hurt starkly evident in her voice.   
“The prophecy says that ‘in a barren field the dark crop will be nurtured.’ Because Juliette killed herself in the way that she did, it was her curse that she would never be able to bear children as a human. Zekiah is counting on that, knowing that you will be ready for Nehemiah.” All of the anger she held against Cas melted away and was replaced with exhaustion. She was suddenly so tired of being angry and sad. She walked over to the loveseat and sat down next to Dean, scrubbing her face with the heels of her hands.  
“Brody wanted kids so bad,” she began, her eyes still closed. “I did, too, especially with him. He would have been the best dad. But the doctors told us we couldn’t and it was my fault. He didn’t care about that,” she said, laughing a little as she opened her eyes. She didn’t look at any of the men in the room; she kept her eyes focused on her hands, which were now clasped in her lap. “At first he said it didn’t matter, as long as he had me. But after a while it was all about adoption or surrogates. I realized that he was lying and he truly wanted children. So I left him so he could find someone else who could give him that family.”  
“Did he find someone?” Heather shrugged at Sam’s question.  
“He dated a few women, a couple of them semi-seriously. But he never had kids with any of them. After we started Wicked Cherry, I asked him about it and he simply said he never found anyone worthy.” She looked up finally, her eyes resting on Castiel’s. “I’m angry at Juliette for taking his opportunity away,” she said softly. “But I’m more angry at Zekiah for starting this whole thing. How do we kill him?”  
“We need to take him by surprise and use an angel blade coated in qeres, for one thing,” Castiel explained. “It would be best to stab him through the heart with it.”  
“And I would be doing the stabbing?” The thought of facing Zekiah in that capacity filled her with dread but she also felt a thrill that she could get revenge for Brody.  
“Yes,” The angel’s face showed his displeasure with the idea. “I told you it would be dangerous.”  
“I offered to gank the S.O.B. but was outvoted,” Dean informed her. She smiled her thanks as him and was rewarded with a saucy wink.   
“What is qeres, by the way,” Heather asked, thinking about her new mission.  
“A perfume used by the ancient Egyptians in the mummification process,” Sam informed her. “According to the lore, it’s fatal to angels if they’re on Earth and in mortal form.”  
“Is Zekiah in mortal form, though,” she asked. “I mean, he can get into our dreams and he was able to kill Brody.”  
“In order to appear to you and not kill you,” Castiel explained, “he will have to resort to a confrontation in his mortal form.” Heather sighed and scrubbed her face with her hands. Castiel was immediately kneeling in front of her. “Are you all right? Is this too much?” She shook her head but didn’t meet his eyes. “I can take Dean up on his offer to...gank...the angel, if you like.”  
“No, no,” This time, she swung her eyes up to meet his. “This is my fight, I can do it. I’m not letting someone else get hurt or die because of me.”


End file.
